


Frivolous Thoughts

by sleeponrooftops



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-08-15
Updated: 2011-08-15
Packaged: 2017-10-31 08:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/342083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeponrooftops/pseuds/sleeponrooftops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started rather harmlessly.  It happened rather adorably.  It ended rather destructively.  And then it began again, anew and unbroken and beautiful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Muddy Words

It started rather harmlessly.

_September twentysixth._

_1992._

Fred was whispering furiously with his twin when Oliver suddenly stopped, the team coming to a halt behind him.  Fred and George, bringing up the rear, nearly created a domino effect with the rest of the team as they careened to a shuddering stop, waving their arms about wildly and glaring daggers at the back of Oliver’s head.

 

“Bloody well doesn’t warn us.  Oh, Flint,” George broke off quietly, craning his neck and stepping on Fred’s toe in the process of trying to see what was going on.

 

“Bugger off,” Fred grumbled, pushing through until they were standing at Oliver’s flanks.

 

“What’s your problem, Flint?”

 

“Quidditch practice, Wood.  We need to train our new Seeker.”

 

“New Seeker, huh?  Too bad.  I already booked the Pitch.”

 

“Relax, Wood,” Flint sneered, “I’ve got a note from Snape.”  Oliver read it over, clearly hostile, just as _Draco Malfoy_ pushed his way to the front, looking disgusted that he had to touch the rest of his team.

 

“Wonderful,” George grunted as Harry gaped.

 

“We could always badger him with Bludgers,” Fred offered under his breath, shrugging.  The twins continued to plot the downfall of Malfoy until Hermione suddenly broke through the tension, and Fred straightened, watching her defend the Gryffindor team.  He felt a swell of pride at this until Malfoy leaned closely to her, looking her up and down, before spitting on the ground.  He didn’t catch what he said until the word _Mudblood_ rolled off his tongue, and Fred almost lost it.

 

He’d be the last to admit that he had a crush on a one Hermione Granger, especially considering she was only _twelve_ , but something about her crazy curls and her flushed cheeks made his palms sweaty.  He knew he’d never act upon it, but he liked it, liked knowing that she could do that to him, could make him think twice sometimes (though he rarely paused to listen to that), could turn his insides out and fill it with _butterflies_.  He’d also never tell George; sometimes he had nightmares about how, his brother might react to his silly crush.  After all, he was only fourteen.

 

But hearing Malfoy insult her like that set him off, and he was about to storm the trenches when Ron whipped out his wand and attempted to act heroic, and then, well, he couldn’t but snort and shake his head as his younger brother proceeded to vomit slugs.

 

\--

 

Fred found her by accident.  He’d meant to be meeting a Hufflepuff to exchange a terrible love potion he’d advertised as highly functional for a book from the Restricted Section that he just _knew_ was going to help him with his and George’s research for their newest prototype.  It was late, almost curfew, and he had the Marauder’s Map tucked under his arm as he crept along the side of the castle.  Even before curfew, being caught outside at this time would be murder, and he took special care to be silent as he slipped through the shadows.  He cursed George under his breath once more for begging him to stay behind so he could attempt a conversation with some fourth year he fancied.

 

He paused by the front doors to check the map just as Hermione Granger walked out of them.  He stopped, staring at her from his hiding place by a few bushes.  Her steps were unhurried, though they were also too slow.  He watched as she stopped some hundred paces away from him before lifting her sleeve to her face and dabbing at her eyes.  She was crying.

 

Fred frowned, straightening and pushing himself out of the bushes, folding the Map as he went.  He stuffed it in his pocket after clearing it, tucked the Restricted book under his arm, and tapped Hermione on the shoulder.  She jumped, sighing when she turned and recognized him.

 

“You nearly gave me a heart attack,” she scoffed, pushing him lightly with her body before drying her face again, “You shouldn’t be out here.  It’s close to curfew, and it’s dark out.”

 

“Oh, Miss Granger?  And you are exempt how?”  He was surprised to see her smile, and he couldn’t believe how infectious it was.  Instantly, he was smiling right alongside her, and so he sighed before nudging her.  “What do you say I escort you back to Gryffindor tower?  That way, if we get caught, I’ll tell them it was your idea, and then we’ll be in the clear.”

 

Hermione laughed, and Fred silently congratulated himself on a job well done.  After a moment, Hermione relented, and the two trudged back up the sloping lawn to the stairs where they climbed in silence, and it was only as they stepped into the brightly lit castle that Hermione spoke, “Fred, could you please knock Malfoy off his broom next game?”

 

Fred smiled widely, nodding.  “Of course.  And hey, Mione,” he said, making her pause.  No one had ever given her a nickname, and she liked the sound of it.  Fred stopped, too, and he surprised her by delicately taking one of her hands and squeezing her fingers.  “Malfoy is a git.  Don’t worry about him, okay?  You’re an amazing, brilliant witch, and he’s got nothing on you.  He’s just a little speck of a bug compared to you, alright?”

 

Though her eyes looked glassy with tears, Fred knew they weren’t of sadness; at least, not entirely.  Hermione nodded, squeezed his fingers back, and then they traversed the hallways until they reached the Gryffindor tower where Fred bade Hermione goodnight, and they were off to their respective dormitories.

 

\--

 

_October thirtyfirst._

_1992._

 

Hermione couldn’t believe she was actually seeking him out.

 

It wasn’t that she _liked_ him, it was just that she felt comfortable around him, even though they’d only had a few conversations, and, even then, not many of them made much sense or held much interest or substance.  But here she was, checking around suits of armor, poking Lee Jordan in the shoulder until he whined and confessed he had no idea where the twins had disappeared to, and even attempting to figure out how to open the kitchen door.

 

She was just giving up on this last idea, slumping against the wall and crossing her arms in a huff when she heard his voice, laughing and joking with his twin.  She jumped up as they came around the corner, red haired windswept and freckled faces tinted with pink from the cold night air.

 

“You were _flying_?  This whole time, you were _flying_?” she accused, arms hanging uselessly by her sides.

 

Fred and George stopped immediately, and it was only when Fred realized what she’d implied, that she was looking for him, that he broke into a grin.  “We were just going for a late night snack; wanna join?”

 

“You make the house elves work at night?” she shrieked, and George just rolled her eyes.

 

“Point deduction.  C’mon, Gred.”

 

“It’s okay, Hermione.  We usually hang out with them.  They like having someone to talk to other than each other,” Fred assured as George tickled the pear and a handle appeared along with a door.  Hermione rolled her eyes, but she followed them in nonetheless.

 

“So, what’s got your knickers in a twist?” George asked calmly as he plopped down in the kitchen, a cookie in one hand and a glass of milk in the other.  A plate of cookies sat on Fred’s lap, and Hermione reddened a little as she reached for one, snatching it off the plate quickly.

 

She swallowed.  They’d been there, so it wasn’t like she was telling them something she ought not to, but it still worried her.  She could feel Fred studying her face, and he sighed, resting the plate on the floor.  “Is this about Mrs. Norris?  Do you have a fondness for little kitties?” he asked, and she glared at him as she noted the amusement twinkling in his eye.

 

“I bet you she’ll be a cat in her next life,” George said, elbowing his twin, “Just wait, she’ll be chasing her tail in no time.”

 

“Those are dogs, _Forge_ ,” Fred said with a roll of his eyes, “Anyway, Hermione seems more like a bird to me.  Free-spirited and all.”  The twins laughed at their own private joke until Fred realized she was on the verge of tears.  “Hey, what’s wrong?” he hurriedly asked, shutting George up.

 

“You saw what was written on the wall tonight,” she whispered, and Fred surprised them all by scooting closer to her and dropping an arm over her shoulder, drawing her in against him.

 

“It’s going to be alright, Mione.  Dumbledore is going to figure out what’s going on, and he’s going to put a stop to this, just you wait.”

 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

 

“For what?” Fred almost laughed.

 

“You keep finding me crying.  I was only trying to find you because you make me feel safe, and I was so scared after tonight.”

 

“Hermione,” he said firmly, squeezing her shoulder, “You’re okay.”  And they stayed like that a moment longer until she nodded and swiped her index fingers under her eyes.  Even then, though, Fred didn’t remove his arm.  They stayed like that, Hermione leaned in against him, while the three ate cookies and chatted lightly and playfully.

 

\--

 

_May fifth._

_1993._

Fred just sat there, staring.  This couldn’t possibly be true.  Hermione _could not_ be petrified.

 

His head snapped up as Madame Pomfrey entered, and she smiled humorlessly at him before clicking past and attending to a rather brutally coughing student.  Her words of comfort fell on deaf ears as he turned his attention back to Hermione, his fingers ghosting over hers.  He just couldn’t believe it.

 

Of course, he’d heard long before now, but this was the first time he’d had the courage to visit her, to see if it really was true.  He hadn’t told anyone where he was going, though George knew.  His conversations with the brunette had increased frequently, and they often found one another late at night, sleepless, in the halls, wandering aimlessly, and they sometimes even planned to meet up, just to hang out.  He enjoyed her presence so much, loved listening to her stories and all the things she, Harry, and Ron had done that he knew she would never dare tell anyone else other than him.

 

Ron.

 

He could still remember his fiery younger brother cornering him one day and hissing quite dangerously about how he better keep his nose out of Hermione’s business or he’d have his head.  He’d merely laughed and rumpled Ron’s head until the redhead shoved his wand in his older brother’s face, and then Fred was all business, stone cold and glaring.

 

“Go away, Ron.  It’s just Hermione,” he’d said, not really meaning it.

 

“Just Hermione,” Ron spat, “Just Hermione.”

 

And then he’d walked away, just like that.  Fred didn’t really understand it until George rolled his eyes and pointed at Fred and then Hermione.  After blushing, he knew.  Ron fancied her, just like he did.  Ron was better suited, though, especially being her age, and it made him frown whenever he saw them interacting.

 

  1. When had she suddenly decided to mean so much to him?




	2. Foreign Letters of Love

_July seventh._

_1993._

_HERMIONE._

_HI._

_France, really?  I’ve heard it’s beautiful there.  I’ve always wanted to visit.  Someday, we’ll go, just the two of us, and you can push me off the Eiffel Tower, alright?  I’m sure you’d get a laugh out of that.  Have you eaten any snails?  Percy says he tried one (I don’t believe him) and that they’re good (again).  How are your parents?  Have they inspected anyone’s teeth and embarrassed you yet?  My dad has done both of these, unsurprisingly.  Are they enjoying France as much as you seem to be?  I’m kind of jealous, I won’t lie._

_Egypt is all sorts of wonderful.  George and I tried to lock Percy in a pyramid, but Mum had a conniption.  The poor lady from the Prophet who took our picture (I’ve included the issue for your glassy-eyed gazing) looked terrified when Mum started screaming.  FRED WEASLEY, HOW DARE YOU.  I tried to reason with her, saying it was all George’s idea, which he hexed me for, and then, Christ, it was all, OH MY GOSH, YOU DID UNDERAGE MAGIC from the Ministry.  Honestly, you’d think we went out and killed Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived, Only Savior of the Universe._

_Have you spoken with Harry?  Ron keeps moping because he hasn’t heard from him yet.  I keep telling him it’s only July, and just barely, that we’ll see him in August, but he’s not buying any of it.  I reckon those wretched Dursleys have Hedwig locked up again.  I wouldn’t put it past them.  You did hear what they did last year, right, with the bars and all?  Ruddy awful, if you ask me._

_I’ve got to wrap this up, though.  George has been throwing marsh mellows at me for some time now, so I assume that means he’s bored or tired of watching me chicken scratch your letter away, so I’ll leave you to eat snails and drop pennies from the Eiffel Tower (Dad said that can kill someone; have you tried?).  Much love, and don’t let any boys wearing berets French kiss you, or I’ll have to come over there, and I don’t know how to apparate yet!_

_FREDERICK._

“Your name is not Frederick,” was all George said as he finished reading over his twin’s shoulder.  He popped a marsh mellow in his mouth as Fred rolled his eyes and folded up the letter.  He called for Errol, remembering the last time he’d written Hermione.  It had taken nearly three weeks for her response because she was so afraid to let him out of her sight.  She tried to nurse him back to health, but Errol was Errol, and forever he would remain battered and broken.  And now, he refused to send any letter to her without the scrambling bird.

 

_July eighteen._

_1993._

 

_Frederick, really?_

_HELLO._

_France_ is _beautiful.  I think you’d like it here.  It’s the perfect place for blowing things up and trying things out on reluctant people.  There are just so many tourists here; it’s hard to imagine how the true French must feel, having to deal with us day in and day out.  I wonder if there’s some sort of community of real French people who discuss and plot the downfall of tourism in their country?  I think we should start one, if not._

_You’re jealous?  Goodness, I wish I could be in Egypt.  It sounds fascinating.  I can only imagine how wonderful it would be to study there.  There’s just… so much.  I doubt you have similar ideas, though.  I hope you two aren’t expelled!  Who will convince me the elves like to stay up and bake you cookies just so you can share half the plate with them and play Exploding Snaps until they have no eyebrows?_

_To be quite honest, I really do miss you.  I feel like I haven’t spoken to anyone in so long.  I know it’s only been a few months since we were last in Hogwarts, but it feels like forever.  Do tell Ron and Ginny I miss them and that I say hello.  (Stop being so wretched to Percy, even though I’m sure he deserves it.)  I have spoken with Harry, and he said he only just managed to sneak Hedwig out with a letter for me and then Ron.  I should think it’ll arrive soon enough.  On the note of owls, I’m going to murder you if you send Errol one more time.  The bloody bird is going to die, and it will be all my fault._

_I can’t wait to see you again.  August is too far away!  I’m very excited to be spending a whole month at the Burrow, though, as I’m sure many adventures will ensue.  Mum’s calling; I think my new French boyfriend is waiting with his fake accent.  Be sure to pet some cats for me._

_Love, Hermione_

\--

 

_November twentieth._

_1993._

Hermione looked up as she felt a tap on her shoulder.  Her smile widened as she recognized the two mischievous faces of Fred and George Weasley.  “Sit down!” she exclaimed, much to the surprised glances from Ron and Harry, who had snuck in under the Invisibility Cloak.  The twins joined them; following them very closely was their younger sister, Ginny.

 

“ _How_ —” Ron began furiously as Ginny blushed when Harry waved hello, “—is she here?”

 

“We snuck her in,” the twins responded together, shrugging nonchalantly, “It was easy, really.  Besides, we felt like she needed a good introduction before she gets all boring next year and doesn’t want to hang out with us on these trips.  So, how are you lovely fellows and gals today?”

 

“Quite good, actually,” Hermione said with a happy smile, “We’ve just come from the Shrieking Shack.  Bit chilly out, honestly.”

 

“Winter is approaching, and fast,” George added, nodding, “Ronald?  Harry?”

 

Ron grunted, and Harry rolled his eyes.  “Alright, and you?”

 

“Well enough.  Have we ordered yet, Rosmerta, dear?” Fred inquired as the short, curly-haired waitress stopped by their table.

 

“We have, but you’re more than welcome to put in orders.”  She looked at Ginny briefly, but didn’t utter a word; she merely smiled and tsked the twins.  Once they’d ordered, the group delved into conversation consisting of Ron grunting some more, Harry unsuccessfully trying to talk to Ginny that went past blushing and giggling, Harry giving up and engaging the twins, and Fred and Hermione occasionally whispering things and sending each other meaningful, smiling looks.

 

It was odd, Hermione reckoned, to be feeling this way about a Weasley, especially one of the twins.  Ron was her best friend, and she’d never, in her wildest dreams, imagined crushing on one of his brothers.  Considering he was the youngest and the twins were beyond her control, she thought it impossible.  She didn’t appreciate their blatant disregard for the rules, but everytime Fred was near, that disturbance seemed to float from her mind.  She knew they meant well, even if meaning well was causing a ruckus; it was all in the fun of making people happy and laugh.

 

And Fred, two years older than her, was something else to contend with.  She’d never sought after older boys, she’d never even really sought after boys.  She was Hermione Granger, and her first and foremost thought was her studies, but that didn’t seem to matter, just like his rule-breaking nature.  She _liked_ Fred, as a person, and it didn’t matter that she was only thirteen and insanely straight-edged.

 

“The astronauts have spotted something beautiful.  Wonder if they’ll bring it back to Earth,” she heard Fred saying, and she laughed softly as she realized he was staring straight at her.  “Where’d you go, angel?” he asked quietly, and the nickname shocked her into a lapse of silence until he shook his head and waved a hand in front of her face.

 

“I’m off in the clouds, sorry.  Sprouting some wings or something,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders, “And what have you done lately?” she challenged.

 

“Nothing,” he paused to tap her on the nose, “that you’d approve of.  Alright, I’m full.  Gred, Gin, ready?”

 

“I think I’ll stay here, if you guys don’t mind,” Ginny said shyly, and Harry nodded, causing her to duck her head and hide her eyes.

 

The twins left without her, and George instantly nudged his brother, arching an eyebrow.  “Hermione, really?”

 

“I don’t know.  Is she too young?  She’s too young, I know,” Fred answered himself miserably, “And it seems so odd, right?  Miss Granger, top of her class and all around goody-two-shoes know-it-all.  Wanna bewitch some snowballs to follow Malfoy around?”

 

“You’ve had it in for him ever since last year, crazy bastard.”

 

“He called her that name.  Of course I have it in for him.  Plus, he’s a slimy git, and he tortures Harry and Ron.”  George just shrugged and went to roll snowballs with his brother.

 

\--

 

_March second._

_1993._

Hermione rubbed her nose; she’d been sick recently, and her sinuses were sore.  She’d just finished with her classes and had sought out some alone time, and so here she was, wandering the halls of Hogwarts.  She did this often, just trying to clear her mind, though she was tired and just wanted to find somewhere quiet and out of the way to relax.  She happened upon a door she hadn’t noticed before, and she carefully opened it, closing it behind her.  A small hallway led to a room she couldn’t quite make out, and she would have turned back, but there was this _smell_ wafting down the hall, and her curiosity got the better of her.

 

As she made her way forward, the smell started to identify itself.  Different sweets and ranging potions assaulted her senses, and she frowned.  Who was brewing something and what?

 

Hermione stopped just beyond the opening from the hallway, and she almost laughed.  Peering into a large cauldron was George Weasley while his brother snuck up from behind, something sticky in his hand.  Hermione cleared her throat; this time, she did laugh.  George jumped, scattering some small, round black things he was holding and Fred yelped, throwing the sticky thing in the air; it landed on his head.

 

“So _this_ is your shop?”

 

George gulped; he looked ready for a heavy berating, but Fred was just groaning and trying to pull whatever it was out of his hair.  George seemed to notice, and he turned on his twin.

 

“Seriously?  You were trying to put that on me?  What happened last time you did that?”  And they were wrestling, leaving Hermione to laugh and wander about.  At some point, they stopped and watched her in amusement, but she was far too engrossed in all the strange items they had collected and worked on.  It looked like Zonko’s, but it had that Weasley touch that made her smile.

 

“This is interesting,” she said at last, turning to face them, and their jaws dropped open.

 

“Really?” George managed, “You’re not going to yell at us or something?”

 

“No,” she said with a shrug, “As long as you don’t endanger yourselves or anyone.”  The twins nodded appreciatively before George went to collect his black things and Fred made his way over to Hermione.  He dared touch a hand to the small of her back, and she almost jumped, turning to face him.

 

“Wanna go for a walk?  You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

 

“I’m just tired,” she admitted, not stepping away from his touch, “I was trying to find somewhere quiet when I happened upon this.”

 

“I know the perfect place.  George, I’ll be back, alright?”  George just smirked.

 

Fred led the way through the castle, taking so many turns and erupting into so many different hallways that Hermione lost track of where she was.  He brought her right up to a door before stopping and smiling down at her.  “You ready?”  Hermione just nodded, a little nervous, and her heart skipped a step when he took her hand and pushed open the door.

 

It was a simple motion, really, but it caught her off guard, and she almost forgot to move her feet to follow him.  Fred Weasley was holding her hand.  It wasn’t romantic, not laced or anything, just regular hand-holding, but it made her stomach tumble.  She almost felt… _giddy_.

 

They climbed and climbed, up winding stairs, until they erupted into the warm night sky, surrounded by stars and beauty.  They were on the Astronomy Tower, and Hermione had never felt like this before.  And it was then that she finally admitted to herself that yes, she did like Fred as more than a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Everything recognizable belongs to J.K. Rowling.
> 
> If you happen to like Marauders era fics, please give my other new story, February Stars, a look! It’s a Sirius/OC, :D


	3. Whispers and Sunrises

_August seventh._

_1994._

Hermione sighed and closed her trunk, looking over her things for the last time.  She smiled, satisfied, before heading downstairs where she bid her parents goodbye and then went outside.  She had two minutes to spare, and so she ran a last minute checklist in her head.  Arthur Weasley finally appeared, coming out from beside her house, and she greeted him with a smile before going over to him.

 

She disliked side-along apparition, though she understood the simplicity in it.  It was far easier than finding a fireplace connected with the Floo nearby, and it didn’t cost like the Night Bus did.  When they arrived on the edge of the swamp, she smiled and released Arthur’s arm, excitement trilling through her.  They both laughed, however, when an explosion of fireworks rocketed out one of the windows and Molly’s screaming voice suddenly echoed through the open doorway.

 

“I’m always telling them she’s going to blow them out of the window next,” Arthur laughed, “Harry and Ron aren’t home right now; they went exploring over the hill and should be back in a few hours, but I’m sure you need time to get settled in with Ginny and get reacquainted.”  She had other things on her mind, but she nodded nonetheless.

 

It turned out, after trudging up many flights of winding stairs, that Ginny was busy in the garden, where her mother had been before she’d stormed up to yell at the twins, and so she unpacked in silence until there was a knock on the door, and she turned, beaming.

 

“I was wondering when I’d finally see you,” she said, going over to him and touching his cheek; it was a little black from soot, and her thumb came away spotted with it.  “You’re going to end up burning your hair off one day,” she teased, her hand resting on his shoulder.

 

“And you’ll be there to say you told me so,” he chided before bending and lifting her off the ground.  She let out a little noise of surprise, but held onto him nonetheless, happy to be with him again.

 

He breathed her in, even when he set her back down and had to stoop a little because of their adorable height difference.  When they finally parted, he snatched up one of her hands, playing with her fingers a little while she blushed.  Fred couldn’t help but find her amazingly cute.

 

“So, uhm,” he cleared his throat, and Hermione stepped back a little, “What are you up to?”

 

“Just unpacking.  Wanna keep me company until Ginny or the boys return?”

 

“Oh, I’m just second best?” he mocked hurt, but she just shoved him lightly in the chest before going back over to her trunk and continuing to unload her clothes into her half of the dresser that Ginny had cleared out.

 

“I like this,” he commented, lifting her small purse, “Charmed it, did you?  Not doing underage magic, I hope.”

 

“I did it before I left, thank you very much,” she informed as he sat on her makeshift bed, “Just a simple shrinking charm or something.”

 

“Or something,” he chuckled, “Why, Hermione, who knew you were so clever?”

 

“Goodness, Frederick.”  They both laughed, which dissolved into happy smiles.  They continued to chat, about their summers so far, about the classes they’d hopefully be taken in the fall, about the Cup coming up, about Hermione’s obscenely large stack of books, and about Fred and George’s new prototypes.  Eventually, Fred even reclined back in the bed, soaking in the sun dancing in through the window and Hermione leaned against the walls with his legs draped over her lap, pieces of string taped to his jeans while she braided bracelets.  It was a hobby she’d picked up rather recently, but she liked the simplicity of it and the absentmindedness of the actions.

 

“I want one of those,” he commented halfway through, and she nodded at a bag of yarn on the floor next to her bed, lying atop a few of her books.  He picked it up and sorted through the colors while they continued to talk, only pausing when they heard Ginny’s voice float up the stairs.

 

“Is Hermione here yet?”

 

“She arrived a few hours ago!” Arthur called back, and Fred just smiled before straightening into a sitting position.  They often separated like this around their friends, not wanting to set off any alarms or red flags, and it didn’t bother them too much.

 

“Oh, Fred!” Ginny exclaimed when she entered her room, “What are you doing in here?”

 

“Demanding ‘Mione make me something manly,” he said, setting four colors in her lap: green, white, red, and black.  “Cup colors,” he said before putting her colors away and getting off the bed, “George will be looking for me by now.  I’m gonna head back.  See you girls later,” he finished with a wave.  When he retreated, Ginny raised an eyebrow, but Hermione just shrugged.

 

“He’s nice to talk to.  He doesn’t get all hot and bothered like your other brother.”  Ginny laughed.  And when she left to shower, Hermione sighed, smiling.  She definitely felt giddy.

 

\--

 

_August eighteenth._

_1994._

It was only five in the morning when Fred woke himself up, and if it hadn’t been for his plan, he would have gone straight back to sleep.  But, as it was, he roused himself and just managed to tame his hair and brush his teeth before he headed to the girls’ room, still dressed in his white t-shirt and plaid pajama bottoms.  He crept inside, careful not to let the door creak, and he tiptoed over to Hermione’s bed, shaking her shoulder lightly and then jumping back in case she hit him.  She didn’t, thankfully, though she did let out a soft noise of surprise when she opened her eyes and noticed him.

 

“What are you doing here?” she asked groggily, rubbing her eyes.

 

“I wanted to show you something, but it can’t wait until later,” he whispered, nodding toward the door.

 

“What is it?  What time is it?” she finished, confused and looking around for her clock.

 

“Just past five.  C’mon, just trust me, okay?”

 

She sighed, but she relented, grumbling to him and pushing him away as she made a beeline from the bathroom.  When she erupted, her bushy hair was softer and less wildly curled, her breath was minty, and she looked a little more awake.  Fred almost blushed at her skimpy nightwear of shorts and a t-shirt, but he caught himself and mentally slapped himself for staring at her legs.  He _would not_ think of almost-fourteen-year-old Hermione Granger in that way.

 

They padded out in their bare feet into the chilly nearly morning air, and Hermione shivered, crossing her arms.  Fred smiled and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her close to him.  They walked in silence like this, and they only stopped when they’d reached the hill in the Weasley’s backyard.  Here, Fred sat them down in the dewy grass, and Hermione leaned her head on his shoulder and yawned.  He kept his arms around her, occasionally rubbing her arms to keep her warm, though she gasped when she realized.  The sun slowly came up on the horizon, painting the sky in beautiful pinks, purples, and oranges.

 

“It’s beautiful,” she gasped, straightening.

 

They watched the sun rise steadily, and they shared this moment in joy and quiet.

 

\--

 

_August twentyfirst._

_1994._

Hermione sighed, rubbing her arms.  She’d been awake for the last hour or so, watching the thunderstorm pass by.  She hated lightning more than anything, though she loved the calm of rain and a constant rumble.  It was just the _flash and crack_ that made her heart jump and awoke her entire body.  She just couldn’t sleep when it stormed.

 

Finally, there seemed to be a lull, and she gathered herself up, taking her comforter with her from her makeshift bed and looping it around her neck like a cape.  She padded downstairs in her shorts and loose white v-neck, hair messy and mouth open wide in a yawn.  She managed to make it downstairs before another crack made her jump and she let out a noise of surprise before whimpering slightly and sprinting into the living room where she lit a fire and curled up on the couch.  She could almost block out the sights and sounds with the crackling of the fire; plus, she’d tucked a book under her arm, and the familiar crinkle of pages and smell of ink helped.

 

A stair creaked suddenly, and her eyes widened, her gaze lifting to the curving stairs just beyond her sight.  And then, a familiar flame of red hair bobbed into view, and Fred almost went right past her when he stopped at the kitchen doorway and turned to stare at the fire.

 

“Hey,” she whispered, and he hit his head on the frame when he jumped and turned.

 

“For Christ’s sake, Hermione,” he sighed, clutching his chest, “Don’t just sneak up on me, alright?  What are you doing down here anyway?”

 

“I don’t like lightning,” she admitted rather shyly.

 

Fred smiled before going over and shocking her by kissing her on the forehead.  “I know how to fix that,” he said with a wink before disappearing into the kitchen.  When he returned, Hermione laughed; he was carrying a plate of cookies and a glass of milk.

 

They sat together, Fred asking questions about her book, Hermione stealing his milk, and, despite her mind shouting at her not to, she smiled as Fred placed an arm around her shoulders and hugged her to him.  And that was how they slowly drifted off, Hermione in his arms and Fred loving every second and every touch.

 

Fred awoke first, startling himself from his slumber with a rather loud snort, and he blinked, reaching up a hand to rub his eyes.  The other was trapped beneath Hermione, and he smiled.  He couldn’t help but push a stubborn curl out of her eye, and she seemed to sigh and relax into him more now that it wasn’t bothering her sleep.  He felt entirely at ease, but he couldn’t be sure whether that was a good or bad thing.

 

And so he let himself doze off again since it was only early, holding Hermione just a little tighter and smiling.  It was he who woke again, though this time it was because of the sounds of the house waking up.  Molly was in the kitchen, so she must be readying breakfast, and Fred yawned, stretching a little before giving Hermione a soft shake.  She emitted an adorable noise and snuggled closer to him.  Somewhere in the night, they’d reclined to lying down, and she was curled up against him, her back to the couch while he dangled precariously on the edge.

 

“Fred, dear, your brother will be up soon.  Ronald,” Molly added, and he caught the stern look.  They all knew Ron fancied Hermione, even if he would never admit it.  And Molly knew that Fred fancied Hermione, even if he would never, ever say a word about it.  “And don’t forget the Cup is today!  You’ll need to get dressed!” she called from the kitchen as Fred gave Hermione’s shoulder another small shake.

 

“Hermione,” he whispered, and she smiled.

 

“Stop shaking me,” she retorted, squeezing him, “I’m awake.  I was just enjoying your presence.”

 

“Oh, was that it now?”

 

And Hermione just laughed before pushing away from him and heading off toward the stairs.  She turned, smiled, and blew him a kiss before disappearing, and all Fred could do was sigh.

 

They missed each other at breakfast, as he left to change five minutes before she came down to eat.  And when they were waiting outside for Ginny and Hermione because they were _girls_ and took forever, Ron actually touched Fred’s elbow and asked him to talk, man-to-man, no George, no Harry.

 

“Look, I don’t really know what’s going on, and maybe you’re just friends, but—”

 

“Save it, Ron,” Fred cut him off, sighing, “It’s just Hermione, okay?  I know you like her, so chill out.  I’m not trying to snatch her from you.  We just happen to be really good friends.  I like talking to her, and she as well.  It’s a good release, a nice reprieve from you and Harry and from George.  Alright?”

 

  1. Fred stared at her a moment too long, and Ron just glared at him.



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Everything recognizable belongs to J.K. Rowling.
> 
> Also, I am currently piecing together a compilation of oneshots centering around the lives of the Black sisters, and I am immensely excited about it.


	4. Open Your Eyes

_October fifth._

_1994._

 

Hermione dropped into the seat next to Ron, nudging him before opening her Potions book.  “Do you want help?” she asked, and he almost fell over.  He nodded furiously, and so they set to work, diligent until dinner came around and Harry suddenly appeared to collect them for dinner.

 

“I was with Neville in the library again,” he explained as they headed down for dinner.

 

“What does he keep asking you for?” Ron queried.

 

“He just wants help with his work, and he was afraid to ask you—” he threw a small glare at Hermione, “—because of all the times she bites your heard off—“ he motioned to Ron, “—and so he’s asked me to help him a little.  I don’t really mind,” Harry shrugged, “It was just a bit much this week.  I need a break from him is all.  Have there been any more notices posted?”

 

“Dumbledore’s officially set the arrival date as Halloween, funnily enough,” Hermione informed, letting her hand trail along the railing.

 

“Why does everything always happen on Halloween?” Ron groaned.

 

“Troll,” Harry started.

 

“The Chamber was opened,” Ron continued.

 

“Sirius Black trying to break in because he just wanted to kill his framer,” Hermione finished, and they both looked at her with mild amusement.  “What,” she scoffed, “I feel bad for him, too, you know.  I hate that he’s on the run.  I wish we’d just gotten Pettigrew and—” Hermione cut herself off as they reached the Great Hall.  “So anyway,” she continued, “Durmstrang and Beauxbatons will be arriving on Halloween.  I also heard McGonagall mentioning something about a dance to Madame Pince the other day.  I rather hope she’s joking.  I really wouldn’t enjoy that.”

 

“You wouldn’t enjoy dressing up?  Who would’ve thought?” Ron laughed, though he didn’t notice Hermione glaring at him.

 

“I mean, really, who would we even go with?  There’s no one even remotely interesting in our year.”

 

“Gee, thanks, Hermione,” Harry said with a roll of his eyes, “Hey Fred, hey George.”  Hermione couldn’t help the smile that flittered over her face as she settled across from Fred.  “How are you?”

 

“Well,” they answered at the same time, “Though Fred here—” George continued by himself, “—took quite a beating earlier.”

 

Fred closed his eyes briefly to show off his blackening eye.  “Mad-Eye threw an eraser.  Bloody brilliant aim,” he muttered, furrowing his brow and turning his gaze back to his plate where he’d heaped up food that he was just pushing around.

 

Ron looked smug about something.

 

Hermione stared at Fred a moment before turning to say something and noticing Ron’s expression.  She followed his gaze back to Fred, and she was immediately confused.  What did Ron have over Fred?  More importantly, why would he ever stoop to such a low level, especially with his brother?

 

“Are you excited for the Durmstrangs, Hermione?” George teased, and she blushed.  “They’re supposed to be mighty fine.  All the girls in our year are beginning their preparations for when they first arrive.”

 

“For what, hair and makeup?” Hermione laughed, “It’s not like they’ll be wearing anything fancy.  Just regular robes, I suppose.”

 

“I suppose,” Fred said, shrugging, “First Quidditch match coming up soon, Harry.  Excited much?”

 

“Hardly,” he groaned, “I really wish Wood hadn’t promoted me to Captain before he left.  Honestly, as if I can handle all you bloody lunatics.”  The twins smirked, and their meal carried on this way until the trio departed for bed, Ron standing too close to Hermione.  Even Harry noticed her discomfort.

 

“’Mione, I don’t wanna go to classes tomorrow,” he complained when they’d sat by the fire, dropping his head on her shoulder.

 

“Is something going on between you and Fred?” she asked, shrugging his head up and off her.  When he just stared at her, she elaborated, “I saw the look you were giving him.  What game are you playing at?”

 

“Nothing.  Just a little misunderstanding we had that’s been cleared up.”

 

“What _kind_ of misunderstanding?” she demanded, surprising both boys.

 

“Why do you care?  It’s not like it concerns you,” Ron scoffed, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.

 

“Oh, why?” she snapped, standing abruptly.  Harry watched her, confused.

 

“Because, ‘Mione.  It’s not like you’re even friends with him.  I mean, seriously, it’s _Fred_.”

 

“Don’t call me that again,” she said through gritted teeth before storming out of the common room.

 

“Seriously, mate, if you want to win her over, stop being such a git,” was the last thing she heard Harry say before the portrait hole slammed shut behind her.  The Fat Lady grumbled something at her, but she just continued on down the hall, muttering under her breath.

 

“Hey there, throwing a temper tantrum?” a familiar voice said as a hand caught her arm.

 

“Fred,” she breathed out, her anger suddenly dissipating until he let go of her arm, and then she was reminded why she’d left the tower in the first place.  “No, temper tantrum, no.  I’m just… pissed at Ronald,” she finished with a huff.

 

“As per usual,” he noted, “What about this time?”

 

“You,” she managed to get out before she got too nervous.  He arched an eyebrow like he didn’t know, and she sighed.  “Just forget it, okay?  Just.  Bye, Fred.”  And Hermione walked off.  If he didn’t know, then she didn’t care.

 

\--

 

_October ninth._

_1994._

Hermione tossed on a blue and green plaid button-up over her jeans before lacing on some shoes, grabbing a grey sweatshirt, and heading out of her dormitory with a book under her arm.  It was still early, early enough that the boys wouldn’t be awake and breakfast wouldn’t start for another hour.  She traversed the stairs, common room, and hallways in silence until she reached the front doors and went to sit in the open courtyard on one of the hidden benches.  She leaned against a tree that was stationed behind it, tucked her legs under her body, and opened her book.

 

She spent the next forty minutes there, content and peaceful, happening to watch and listen as the world awakened.  The sun was already up, but the animals were sleepy and only started to poke out around eight o’clock, an hour after she’d arrived.  Dead leaves rustled on the cement, making scraping sounds, sounds that masked footsteps.

 

Hermione hadn’t expected anyone else to be up this early on a Sunday, and so when a one Fred Weasley sat next to her, she was surprised, but she kept the emotion locked away, not taking notice of him other than a quick glance and nod before she returned to her book.

 

“Why do you hate me all of a sudden?” he asked very quietly, tracing circles on her denim-clad thighs.

 

“I don’t hate you,” she responded just as softly, shrugging into her sweatshirt as a shiver tugged through her.  It was a cold, brisk morning.

 

“Open your eyes,” Fred whispered, and this caught Hermione’s attention.  She put a thumb in her book and turned to ask him what he meant, but she was interrupted.

 

Fred caught her chin between his index finger and thumb, his nose rubbing smoothly against hers, and his breath puffed out on her open mouth, minty and chilly.  Her question-parted lips stayed that way, now in wonder and surprise, and she almost smiled.  She could count every single one of his freckles up this close if she wanted to.  And then he did the most adorable thing, eyes slipping shut as he rubbed her nose on purpose and smiled, this warm, affectionate smile.

 

“Open your eyes,” he said again, softly, his breath intruding hers again, mingling in a tingling way.

 

“What am I supposed to be seeing?” she asked because it felt right.

 

The breath between them suddenly disappeared, and Hermione sighed.  Fred’s lips were cold from being outside, like her own, but his touch ignited a flame within her, and she never thought she’d ever feel more alive than in this moment.  He was soft, delicate with her, like she might break, his fingers still held around her chin, his other hand resting on her thigh, and his mouth moved against hers in an unbreakable rhythm, true and right.

 

Hermione had never been kissed before, but something in the twist of her stomach and the skip of her heart told her this was the perfect first kiss.  And when Fred pulled back, she felt like he’d stolen her breath with that simple touch, and she wanted it back, wanted his, wanted more.  She leaned forward, touching his lips tentatively, and she felt him smile against her mouth.

 

“Hermione Granger,” Fred whispered before kissing her a little more forcefully, capturing her mouth in a way that made her tremble just a little, “I think I have a crush on you,” he finished before giving her lower lip a soft, wet little touch.

 

“Fred Weasley,” she said right back, and she giggled, “I think I have a crush on you, too.”

 

“Mm,” was all he said, and Hermione felt heat rush to her cheeks as his fingers slipped away from her chin and rested on her neck, his palm flesh with her skin, sending pleasant shivers through her.  She gripped the hand that was on her thigh, asking him silently.  He pulled back after one last kiss, and they looked at each other for a long moment.

 

“You’re so young,” he said sadly, brushing her hair back behind her ear, “It feels so wrong, but so damn right.  Why do you have to be so irresistibly attractive?” he groaned, and Hermione laughed.

 

“I apologize.  Would you rather me ugly?”

 

He shook his head fervently before adding, “It’s not just that, either.  You’re beautiful in all sorts of ways.  You’re smart, adorable, clever, interesting, sweet, and I just like you.  But I think Ron would murder me if he’d just witnessed that.”  Hermione touched her lips, and Fred smiled.  “Was that okay?” he wondered.

 

“It was perfect,” she assured, “Only thing is, I’m not really sure where we stand.  I mean, I was mad at you the other day because I thought you didn’t know that I liked you, and it frustrated me.”

 

“I did know.  I’m just… trying and failing miserably to tread lightly.  I don’t want to freak you out, Hermione.”

 

“Just the fact that I like you freaks me out,” she admitted, laughing softly, “But I don’t know what to do next.  I’ve never had a—” she immediately cut herself off; she would not assume things.

 

“Do you want that?  A relationship?” Fred asked.

 

“I’m not sure,” Hermione sighed, “Maybe.  Do you?”

 

“Maybe.  I feel like we need to try this out first.  I don’t know.  I just… I don’t want to ruin your friendship with Ron, Hermione.  He’s a really good friend.  And I don’t want to cause any problems for you.”

 

“What, can you read minds or something?”  Fred just laughed before Hermione sighed, still smiling, “I like that idea.  So, we’re not dating, but we are something?”

 

“If you think that’s right.”

 

“I like that.  I feel like trying is a good idea.  Rather than just jumping in headfirst, that is.  You know how I am.”

 

“I do.”  And Fred just grinned before leaning in to kiss her one last time.

 

\--

 

_October thirtyfirst._

_1994._

Hermione wiggled in her seat a little, craning her neck.  They hadn’t come down soon enough to get good seats, which annoyed her, but between Ron’s laziness and Harry’s procrastination, she should have known it would’ve taken more than a half hour to coax them out of the common room, especially after they’d scored the couch by the fire.  Ron was even still grumbling about how he was cold now.  Harry occasionally shot him a glare that shut him up for a few minutes.

 

“I’m excited, aren’t you?” Ginny said, looking over at Hermione, who nodded.  She was quite interested to see who would be roaming the halls of Hogwarts alongside them in the coming months.

 

The performance the two schools put on was certainly one that left each of the respective Houses talking about for some time that night.  Hermione couldn’t help an unsettling feeling in her stomach, though, one that had blossomed out of nowhere the second the first Durmstrang student had stepped in.  Something just worried her about them, something she wasn’t sure she could place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Everything recognizable belongs to J.K. Rowling.


	5. Just Hogsmeade

_November fifth._

_1994._

“I just don’t know what to wear,” Hermione complained, flopping down on Ginny’s bed.

 

“What’s the big deal?  It’s just Hogsmeade.  You’ve been a million times.  _I’m_ excited to go.  This is the first time I’ll be able to go officially.”  Hermione smiled at the memory of the twins and Ginny wandering around Hogsmeade on countless trips last year when she really ought to be back at the castle.  How they continued to manage it baffled the trio.

 

“You must be happy to be hanging out with Harry,” Hermione tried to change the subject.

 

“It’s not a date, Hermione.  You and Ron will be there, as well.  He just happened to invite me along.”

 

“I think he likes you, but you’re always so scattered around him.”

 

“He makes me nervous!” Ginny squeaked before turning to her friend, “Will you braid my hair?  You’re so nifty at it.”  Afterward, Ginny changed into a cute little top over jeans, just a white flowing material with blue and pink flowers.  She pulled a peacoat on over that to cover her shoulders and keep her warm before Hermione finally retreated upstairs to her room to dress.  She didn’t want it to be obvious that she had made plans for this trip, but she didn’t want to look shabby for her plans, either.

 

And so she settled for a peach-colored, strapless top that fell in layers, both horizontal and vertical, over light jeans and with a black jacket that she buttoned up before grabbing her pink purple scarf, tossing her curls tumbling down her back, and heading down into the common room to wait for the boys.  They appeared before long, and the group of four headed down to the carriages where they met Neville.  Together, the five of them travelled into Hogsmeade, chattering and happy.  Hermione had brought a jar along with her that she kept one of her blue flames in, and she let it sit on the floor so that it would warm the entire carriage.

 

When they finally arrived, they made a beeline for the Three Broomsticks so they could grab lunch and a warm drink.  They were just settling into their Butterbeers when the door chimed open, and Draco Malfoy sauntered in, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

 

“Oh, great,” Ron groaned, nodding over in his direction.  The others took note, though they tried mostly to stay out of his line of vision.  However, as was to be expected, he caught sight of them, smirked, and made his way over, arching an eyebrow and sneering at them.

 

“Lovely group you seem to be keeping here,” he said as he stopped at their table, “See you’ve brought your girlfriend along, Potter,” he added with a nod to Ginny, who blushed profusely and tried to hide her face.

 

“Shove off, Malfoy,” Hermione snapped as the door chimed again, and, out of pure curiosity, she looked, heart skipping a beat.

 

“Excuse me, _Mudblood_ , but I don’t think I was talking to you.  Vermin,” he spat, and then his face hit the table.  Ginny let out a little shriek the same time that Harry jumped up from the glass that tipped over and Ron howled with laughter.  Hermione’s eyes were wide as Malfoy screeched and struggled under the hand that was resting over the back of his neck.

 

“I’d be very careful how you talk to our friends, _Malfoy_ ,” Fred hissed in his ear, bending close so that he made himself heard.

 

“Oh, that includes you two buffoons,” George added, waving dismissively at Crabbe and Goyle, “I’d watch what you shove into your faces in the next few days.  We don’t forget things like this.”

 

Fred suddenly let Malfoy up, who was still screaming and holding his nose where it had broken, blood pouring down onto his clothes.  Madame Rosmerta finally seemed to have made her way over, for she broke through the watching crowd, appalled.

 

“Mister Weasley!  Both of you!” she exclaimed, “Threatening one of my patrons and—Mister Malfoy,” she finished a little coldly, “And what did you do to deserve this?”

 

“Called Hermione a Mudblood and threatened Ginny,” Fred lied, crossing his arms.

 

Malfoy tried to say something, but Rosmerta was suddenly livid, going at him with her hand towel and swatting him all the way to the door, shouting at him the whole way, “Even your father had better manners than this!  Calling my customers’ names, and vile ones at that!  You’re pitiful, Draco Malfoy!  Don’t you dare ever set foot in my pub again!”  When she returned from screaming at him down the alley, there was a thunderous round of applause, and Hermione broke out into a smile, jumping to her feet and hugging Fred.

 

“No one has ever stood up for me like that before,” she whispered, holding onto him tightly, “Thank you.”

 

“Anything for my ‘Mione.  So gang,” Fred continued when she’d released him and they all sat back down, “What’s on the schedule for today?”

 

\--

 

Fred pointed to his brother as he bent to look at something, and Lee went off in George’s direction to help him struggle to get a box down.  They were in Zonko’s splurging and getting ready for the year, though he was supposed to be meeting Hermione in a few minutes.

 

“Nearly ready?” he called, already heading toward the cashier.  He set down his armful, which George and Lee happily added to, and, soon, they were splitting the price among the twins since Lee was only helping carrying and not actually getting anything, and then they waited while their things were put in a charmed bag that was light as a feather and small enough to fit in George’s pocket.

 

“I’ll see you at the carriages later on.  If you see Ronald, kick him in the shins,” Fred said before heading off in the direction of the Shrieking Shack, scuffing his shoes in the snow and making little puffs of white cloud around his feet.  He took a few turns into the sparse trees, smiling when he lifted his gaze finally and Hermione was already there, curled around a book.

 

“Just get that?” he asked, going to sit next to her as she smiled.  He plucked it out of her hands and turned to the cover, keeping his thumb on her page as the book shut.  “ _Das Buch der Bilde_ ,” he read, completely butchering it, and Hermione just laughed before taking it back.

 

“It’s German, but there’s an English translation with it.  Still, my dad knows German, and he likes to read me Rilke’s poetry in its original language.  It always sounds so much different.  Rainer Maria Rilke is a Muggle poet.”

 

“Okay,” Fred said slowly, “So what does _Das Buch der Bilde_ mean?” he laughed, butchering it again.

 

“The Book of Images.  Do you mind if I… if I read one to you?  I find him fascinating.”

 

“Yea, go ahead.  I’m not much of a literate person, though, so,” Fred finished, shrugging.

 

“You mean you’re not interested in literature.  You’re literate, Fred.”  He shrugged again, and so Hermione opened up to a dog-eared page and cleared her throat.  “Entrance,” she read, smiled up at him, and then began,

 

“Whoever you are: in the evening step

out of your room, where you know everything;

yours is the last house before the distant:

whoever you are.

With your eyes, which wearily

just free themselves of the worn-out threshold,

very slowly you raise one black tree

and set it against the sky: slender, alone.

And you’ve made the world.  And it’s immense

and like a word ripening in silence.

And as your will reaches for its meaning,

tenderly your eyes let it go…

 

I’m not really big on poetry,” she admitted, “It’s nonsensical to me, mostly, but my dad likes it, and he always used to read it to me, so I’ve grown fond of Rilke, at least.”

 

“It sounds pretty,” Fred said, nodding, “As I said, though, I’m not literate.”  Hermione just laughed, beaming up at him.  _This_ was right.

 

\--

 

They’d reached the edge of the trees, and Hermione pulled them to a stop, sighing.  “Why Frederick,” she began, and he smiled, “I never knew you were such a conversationalist.  I had such a lovely afternoon with you.”

 

“It’s not over, love,” he said with a wink, “Meet me tonight at the top of the Astronomy Tower at midnight?”

 

“But that’s past curfew!” Hermione exclaimed, frowning, and Fred just laughed.

 

“Midnight,” he repeated before bending to kiss her, rendering her immobile and silent, which allowed him to escape without her shouting.

 

Hermione decided to remain in the outfit she’d worn earlier that day as she crept out of the Gryffindor Tower, Harry’s invisibility cloak tucked under her arm.  She still couldn’t believe she’d managed to convince him to let her borrow it, especially under his word that he wouldn’t tell Ron she was sneaking off into the night.  She had a feeling he knew something was up, though, something that he shouldn’t mention until she did.

 

The first challenge she came upon was that the door that led to the winding stairs was locked.  She frowned and was about to take out her wand when Fred’s voice floated out from the other side, “What’s the _password_?” he sang.  She rolled her eyes; typical.

 

Nonetheless, she wracked her brains until smiling and whispering, “Wheezes.”  The twins had finally mastered the plans for their joke shop, and this was what they had nicknamed it for conversation between the two of them, Lee, and sometimes her.  The door opened instantly, and Fred laughed from the other side.

 

“Apparently, I’m too readable,” he sighed, snatching the cloak off of her, and she was about to question him when he closed the door and shrugged, “Harry tried to escape our notice a few times last year, but we’re too clever, Georgie and I.”  Hermione just smiled before following him up the stairs, taking his hand as they went.  He laced their fingers, and she blushed.

 

The sight that awaited her at the top of the stairs was one of beauty.  Twinkling lights wrapped around the railing, and a soft, inviting pile of blankets were spread out.  Little jars were scattered around, and she gasped as she realized they were for her blue flames.  It was just simple, just something he had noticed, but it meant that he _had_ noticed.

 

She set about casting the fire from her wand as Fred sat on the blankets, his back pressed against the tower.  Hermione soon joined him, laughing softly as he retrieved a bag of sweets from his side.  “I guessed on what you might like,” he said, tipping the bag upside down so everything went scattering over their laps.

 

There were Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, cauldron cakes, chocolate frogs, crystallized pineapple, exploding bonbons, Fizzing Whizzbees, fudge flies, liquorices wands, peppermint toads, pixie puffs, sugared butterfly wings, and treacle fudge.  Hermione could barely believe all the yummy-looking things before her, though she laughed when Fred snatched up a jelly bean and popped it into his mouth without looking first.  His face contorted and he stuck out his tongue.  “Always a bad idea,” he grumbled before reaching for another one.

 

  1. “We should get back,” she mumbled, giving Fred a nudge, “It’s late, and we don’t want to get in trouble.”



 

“Mm, no,” Fred said, pulling Hermione down until they were lying, facing one another.

 

“But Fred—”

 

“I put a charm up so no one will see us if they come to check.”  Hermione lay there for a moment, unsure, until she saw the smile gracing Fred’s eyes, and she gave in, nodding and snuggling closer to him.  He held her in his arms, and Hermione couldn’t believe how right and wonderful this felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Everything recognizable belongs to J.K. Rowling.
> 
> Rilke owns my poetic heart (right after John Keats).


	6. Crumple-Horned Snorkack

_December second._

_1994._

Hermione sighed as she was finally let out of class.  She wasn’t one to normally be so anxious to leave a day of education, but her mind was tumbling with all sorts of confusion.  It had been a rough month of November, and she was glad to finally say goodbye to it and embrace the cold days of December.  Her friendship with Ron was more unstable than ever, especially when he caught her and Fred hanging out in the common room or walking to classes together.  Harry tried to persuade Ron they were just friends, but the screaming matches between Hermione and Ron just increased tenfold.  Not only that, Hermione was feeling trapped.  She adored Fred, adored everything they did together and every moment they spent together, but keeping it all to herself was wearing on her, making it hard to enjoy the moments.  She was afraid to tell Ginny because she was his sister, and she couldn’t imagine telling Harry.  And so she was left in the dark, suffering on the inside and completely complacent on the outside.

 

She skipped dinner and instead headed outside, drawing her cloak tightly around her as her feet skimmed through the fluffy snow.  No one called out for her, and no one came searching for her as she continued on her way past the front doors, around the castle, and onto the snowy Quidditch Pitch.  She made her way toward the stands, climbing up and up until she was on the top level, her face in her hands.  This was too much.

 

“I often come here to think, as well,” a dreamy voice said from next to her, and Hermione looked up, eyes catching the most peculiar sight.  A girl was sitting there with long, _long_ blonde curls and pretty grey eyes.  She was wearing radish earrings, the most interesting necklace with an eagle charm, and, Hermione noted, her clothes were accented with blue and bronze; she was a Ravenclaw.  “I’m Luna Lovegood,” she introduced, holding out a hand for Hermione to shake, who took it, “It’s my third year.  I’m so jealous that you get to go to the Yule Ball.  I’ve always wanted to dress up and dance around with other people.  You’re Hermione Granger, I know,” she continued when Hermione opened her mouth, “You’re friends with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, though I reckon you’d rather tear his fingers off.”

 

Hermione laughed, a true and ringing sound.  “I reckon you’ve got that right.  Haven’t I… haven’t I seen you with Ginny around?”

 

“We met last year, yea.  She was a little reclusive our first year, but she got around to making friends last year.  You’re dating her brother, right?  One of the twins.  Fred?”  Hermione’s world dropped out from under her as she looked at Luna in shock.  “Or maybe it’s just a secret, I dunno,” Luna continued with a shrug, “I only assumed from the way you act.  Oh.  Maybe I wasn’t supposed to say that,” she added at Hermione’s paling and shocked façade.

 

“You really can just tell from how we act?” Hermione asked softly, disbelieving.

 

“Well, I mean, most people can’t.  In fact, I don’t even really think anyone can, or they’ve just noticed you acting more friendly with him and not saying anything.  I certainly wasn’t going to say anything, but you seemed so distraught, especially after that fight with Ron the other day.”

 

Hermione remembered that very clearly.  Ron had said something rather rude about Hermione going to the ball without them, and she’d snapped, yelling at him to grow up, which had, of course, caused Ron to explode, and they’d fought, right there, in the middle of the Great Hall until Hermione was forced to retreat, close to tears.  Even Fred hadn’t comforted her after that, though she knew why.  Even when he didn’t say, she knew that he was upset over her going to the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum, but there was nothing that could be done; going with him would only cause even more suspicion, and he’d already asked Angelina Johnson, at any rate.

 

And Viktor.  She wasn’t really sure how that had come about, but he’d asked her, and she’d been too shell-shocked to really do anything but nod.  And now here was Luna, and she’d figured out everything, just by observing.  “I’m sorry,” Luna suddenly said, frowning, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

 

“It’s just,” Hermione began, sighing, “It’s just a little much.  Everything that could be wrong is going wrong, and I just don’t know what to do about it.  I’m going to the ball with Viktor, and Ron is angry about that and me being with Fred, and… oh, Luna.  I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t be dumping this on you, especially after we’ve just met.”

 

“Oh, it’s alright,” Luna said with a smile, “I don’t mind.  I’m just glad I can help.  Say, tomorrow is a Hogsmeade trip.  I’m sure you’ll be looking for a dress.  Would you mind if I came along?”

 

Hermione smiled.  She couldn’t remember the last time someone had been so friendly to her other than the Weasleys or Harry.  “That would be really great, Luna.  I do have something to do when we first get there, but, other than that, I’d love to.  How about we meet up around three o’clock, and then we can go find somewhere?”

 

“Excellent!  Oh, look,” she suddenly broke off, pointing, “Isn’t that Ron?”

 

Sure enough, Ron Weasley was making his way across the Pitch, alone, and looking rather pitiful.  He came to the edge of the stands, sighed, and lifted his gaze.  He waved to Hermione, who waved back uncertainly, and she and Luna watched as he climbed up to sit next to them.

 

“Listen, ‘Mione,” he began, and Hermione instantly opened her mouth, to which he flinched, “I know, I know, I’m sorry, you don’t like that nickname.”  That wasn’t true, she reasoned to herself, it just felt wrong hearing it coming from Ron and not Fred.  “I’m sorry I’ve been a git.  I guess I was just a little jealous.”  She forced herself to remain quiet, allowing him to continue his apology.  “I should have asked you sooner, to go to the ball, I mean.  I guess I was just nervous.  And… and I’m sorry about freaking out about Fred.  It’s okay if you’re friends with him.  I mean, I get it.  He’s a pretty cool guy.  It’s just weird, especially cos you two never really seemed like friends before.”

 

“Ron, we’ve always been friends.  Fred and I started hanging out and talking our second year.”  Ron looked baffled by this, and Hermione sighed, “I didn’t know it meant so much to you.  Oh, by the way, this is Luna.”  Ron grunted.  Hermione frowned, glaring at him.  She couldn’t understand why he always had to act like this, like nothing was important but what he was talking about.

 

“I think I’ll leave you two alone.  I need to write my dad anyway,” Luna said, getting up and brushing herself off.  Hermione surprised her by standing, as well.

 

“I’ll come with you,” she said coldly, “Clearly Ronald only wants to talk about himself, and I’m rather uninterested in his life at the moment.”  It was harsh, she knew, but the way Ron turned bright red and started screaming at her as she descended the bleachers with Luna only solidified that it was right.  And then Ron did something he hadn’t done before.  He grabbed Hermione’s arm as he caught up with the two girls and shoved her back into the bleachers.

 

“What is it, Hermione?” he shouted, and she just stared at him, “What does he have that I don’t?”

 

“What do we have here?” a sneering voice said, and Luna stepped back, grabbed Hermione’s wrist, and forced her to her feet so that they were standing side-by-side.  Ron looked livid, and his temper skyrocketed as Malfoy approached.  “Distress in the Weasley heart?  What, can’t get your Mudblood to love you?  She’s so busy with your _brother_ , I hear.”

 

Ron looked ready to snap, and Hermione quickly turned.  “Ron, _nothing_ is happening between Fred and me.”

 

“Then stop seeing him,” Ron gritted out, “Because apparently you mean nothing to him and he means nothing to you, so it shouldn’t be too hard to just drop him, then.”

 

“Oh, look, the dirt is going to cry!” Malfoy sang.

 

“Oh, shut up,” Luna scoffed, “No one cares what you think.”

 

“Apparently, the Mudblood does.”

 

Hermione stared at Malfoy, disbelieving.  Why was he so unbelievably cruel to her?  And what had gotten into Ron?  “I’m going to the ball with Viktor,” she said, because she could and because she knew it would hurt him, “And _you_ would be my last choice as a partner.  I’m _glad_ you didn’t ask me until the last second because then I wouldn’t have had to make up some lame excuse about why I didn’t want to go with you.  I would rather go with _Malfoy_ than I would with you.”

 

“As if I’d take you, Granger,” Malfoy spat, but Luna had apparently had enough.

 

“ _Expelliarmus_!” she cried, and Malfoy flew backward, his wand arcing in the air toward Luna.  “You’re pitiful, Malfoy.  Go pick on someone else,” she said before tossing his wand as far as she could throw, grabbing Hermione’s hand, and marching them away from the aghast Ron and flailing Malfoy.  When they reached the Great Hall, Hermione was still breathing heavily, and Luna looked furious.  “Honestly, why do you put up with them?” she sighed, stopping outside the doors.

 

“Ron is one of my best friends,” she mumbled, “I can’t lose him.”

 

“Do you like Fred, Hermione?  Do you like how you feel when you’re with him?”  Hermione nodded, and Luna continued, “Then it shouldn’t matter.  Now, come on, I’m starving, and you’ve made me feel all unlike myself.  We can find Neville and tell him that we saw his frog hopping around the Hufflepuff common room.  He’ll be utterly confused.”  Hermione smiled, grateful for this strange, curly-haired Ravenclaw.  Ginny stood up abruptly, waving them over, and she felt okay, if only for the moment.

 

\--

 

_December third._

_1994._

“I can’t believe he really refused to come,” Harry sighed, rubbing his face as they trudged away from the village and toward the sloping hills where Sirius’ cave was hidden.  Hermione played with the strings on her charmed purse, shrugging.  She hadn’t told Harry what had happened yesterday, and she didn’t think Ron had either.  “I mean, I knew you guys were fighting, but I didn’t think it would go this far.”  Hermione just shrugged again.

 

They reached the cave in silence and were greeted by the sight of Sirius lounging with his head poking out of the cave, absorbing the sun.  His eyes were closed, and he looked utterly at peace.  Their footsteps awoke him, though, and he immediately got up to greet them, hugging each of them.  Hermione emptied the contents of her purse on the cave floor for him, which he gladly took to, tearing at one of the chicken legs.

 

They talked to him for some time, unloading their worries about the upcoming tournament, the ball, and even some of their personal things.  Harry left for a moment to watch Buckbeak fly, sensing Hermione’s unease, and Sirius looked over at her before sighing.  “Are you and Ron still fighting?” he asked cautiously.  Hermione really shouldn’t have been surprised that Harry had told him, but it still caught her as a shock, especially after yesterday.

 

“It’s hard,” she said, nodding, “Especially,” she paused, looking down at her hands, and then it came tumbling out, “Especially because I’m dating Fred.”

 

She expected something, some sort of shocked reaction, but all she got was a nod.  “Harry suspected something like that.”  It seemed everyone knew except Ron, which only infuriated her more.  But, before she could say anything else, Harry had come back in, looking nervous.

 

“McGonagall is coming this way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Everything recognizable belongs to J.K. Rowling.


	7. Explosions

Hermione had never felt so nervous in her entire life.  McGonagall coming meant that Dumbledore knew Sirius was hiding here.  But of course he did.  He was Dumbledore.  Confronting McGonagall, however, was something else entirely.  For a moment, they just stared at one another, the three of them, and then Buckbeak was suddenly making a noise at the cave entrance, and Harry swore.  They burst into action, then, tugging Buckbeak back into the cave and throwing some meat for him to content himself with while Sirius motioned them deeper into the cave, into the shadows, before he whispered a simple concealing charm.  They sat there, huddled against Buckbeak (who had been silenced), fear thrumming through their hearts as McGonagall finally appeared, walked past the mouth of the cave a few times, and then sighed before leaving.  They waited ten minutes until Hermione went to check if the coast was clear.

 

“Next time, we’re taking the invisibility cloak,” Hermione grumbled on her way back in, “That was way too close.  I don’t think we should stay much longer.”

 

Harry agreed, and, soon, they were saying their goodbyes and heading back down the rocky slope.  As they went, a sudden thought struck Hermione.  “Hey, Harry,” she began, smiling, “I know who you can ask to the ball.”

 

“Really?” he exclaimed, looking more than thrilled, “Who?”

 

“Her name is Luna.  She’s a third year Ravenclaw, and she’s friends with Ginny.  She’s a really sweet girl.  Quite weird, but really nice.  I think you’d get along with her.  I’m on my way to meet her now; you can come along and see if you like her.”

 

“Wow, Hermione, that would be excellent.”

 

And so they travelled off through the village until they found Luna staring in at one of the shop windows.  Hermione quickly set about introducing them before they went off to find somewhere to dress shop.  They were just entering when Harry touched Luna’s elbow and, quite awkwardly, asked her, “I know we don’t really know each other, but Hermione said you really wanted to go to the ball, and I don’t have a partner, and so I was wondering if you’d want to come with me?”

 

“Of course!” Luna exclaimed, “Oh goodness, that means I get to pick out a dress, too!  I’m definitely going colorful.”

 

And Luna tugged Hermione off into the depths of the store, leaving Harry to mull about in the lounge waiting for them.  It wasn’t long, however, before his attention was stolen.  The bell atop the door dinged and in walked Ron.  “I thought that was you,” he mumbled, going to sit next to him on the couch, “What’re you doing here?”

 

“Impatiently waiting while the girls dress shop.  Hermione and her friend, Luna,” he elaborated.

 

“Ginny knows Luna.  They’re in the same year.  Who’s she going with?”

 

“Er… me,” Harry finished rather softly, and he was right to.  Ron’s ears went pink, and he frowned, clearly put off.  He didn’t say anything for a few minutes until there was a knock on the window behind them, and they both turned to find Lee Jordan’s face smashed against the window unattractively.

 

Harry laughed and immediately went outside, Ron bemoaning as he followed him.  The twins were behind Lee, each leaning their hands against his head, though they jumped back when Harry and Ron appeared.  “We need you,” George said, grabbing both of them by the shoulders and turning them around the corner of the shop and into an alley.  Fred came up behind them, rifling in Lee’s backpack until he let out a happy noise and pulled something wild-looking out.

 

“Here you go,” he said, tossing Harry and Ron each one.  Harry lifted his and looked at it, puzzled.  It was spiky and green, though it looked edible.  “Go on, pop ‘em in.  We want to see if they work.”  Harry shrugged and dropped it into his mouth.  He always trusted Fred and George, probably more than he should, though Ron was glaring skeptically at them.  Harry chewed and chewed, and it was only when he swallowed that he felt it.  His whole face felt like it was on fire, and he nearly gagged.

 

Fred hooted, clearly pleased.  Harry’s skin had turned bright red and smoke had started to whistle out of his ears, nose, and mouth.  Harry gasped, releasing a rather large bout of steam, and the twins howled with laughter until Lee rolled his eyes and reached into his backpack.  Ron had started to chew his when nothing happened to Harry, though, seeing now, he looked horrified as he swallowed.

 

Something entirely different happened to Ron.  Instead of red, his skin turned blue and icy puffs of air came from his mouth and nose while icicles grew from his ears.  Lee gave them each separate things; this time, they were a yucky grey and completely smooth.  Harry immediately felt his skin cool while Ron felt his warm again.

 

“That was wild,” Harry complimented, “Another get-me-out-of-class idea?”

 

“Yea, though it’s rather obvious it’s from us.  We were thinking more for pranking people, in the long run, at least,” George said with a wicked grin.

 

“So, why were you two in a _dress_ shop?  Not trying to pick up girls, I hope,” Fred laughed.

 

“Harry’s already got a date,” Ron said furiously, and Harry rolled his eyes.

 

“Lay off it, Ron,” he said with a sigh, “Have you found someone George, Lee?”

 

“I’m going with Katie Bell,” George said, puffing out his chest rather proudly.

 

“Lavender Brown,” Lee said with a shrug, “She’s in your year, but she was practically begging people to take her, and I couldn’t find someone, so I said yes.”  Fred and George nodded solemnly until Lee glared at them.

 

“So, Harry—”

 

“—who are you going with?” Fred finished, nudging George.

 

“Luna Lovegood.  She’s—”

 

“Ginny’s friend,” the twins said at the same time.

 

“Speak of the devil,” a voice said from behind them, and they turned to find Luna standing there with Hermione behind her.

 

“We were only gone for a half hour or so,” Harry said in disbelief, “How could you possibly be done so fast?”

 

“Luna jumped into the row of dresses, screamed, and was running off to pay,” Hermione laughed, “And I found mine a few minutes after.  Hey, I want ice cream, d’you wanna go to Honeydukes?” she asked of Luna, who immediately nodded, and the two girls disappeared around the corner.

 

Harry, Ron, and Fred were all baffled.  Ron was even more furious than when he’d started off, especially because Hermione was steadfastly ignoring his existence ever since their blowout yesterday.  Fred couldn’t believe how seriously she’d taken her sentiment of laying low and not making each other even angrier.  After a rather nasty bout of snide remarks, they’d decided to just take a few days break from each other.  The remarks hadn’t been serious, even, Fred reckoned, which surprised him most.  They were just on edge about always being careful and hiding, and, though he would never admit it out loud, it hurt him to hear that she’d accepted Viktor Krum’s proposal to go to the ball.  And then there was Harry, watching Hermione retreat without a backward glance.  He instantly knew something was wrong.

 

\--

 

_December fourteenth._

_1994._

Hermione sat in the common room that night, scribbling away at her two foot essay due next week in Potions.  She’d been looking forward to writing this essay since they’d been assigned it this past Friday, though tonight was the first free moment she’d had.  All her other time had been eaten away with helping Harry and forcefully mending her friendship with Ron, and if she wasn’t doing that, she was with Luna; their friendship, at least, seemed to have skyrocketed, seeing as they loved spending time with one another.  She was strange, Hermione was the first to admit, and she sometimes got on her nerves, but she liked her overall.

 

She was on her second piece of parchment, nibbling on the end of her sugar quill (she loved these especially because she always caught herself doing this) when the couch dipped suddenly, and she looked up, took in Fred’s presence, and went back to staring at her essay.  He sat there for a full minute in silence before sighing when Hermione leaned forward to continue adding.  He reclined into the couch and let his arms fall on either side of him, his feet propped up on the small coffee table Hermione was writing on.  She knew she shouldn’t be writing hunched over like this, but all the good desks were taken, and she’d just wanted to start this.

 

When he sighed for a third time, Hermione straightened and lowered her quill, making sure to place the tip away from her parchment in case it dripped.  “Is there something I can help you with, Fred?  I’m kind of busy, in case you hadn’t noticed,” she said rudely, even though she knew he didn’t deserve it.

 

“Really?  You’re still angry with me?”

 

“You hexed Ronald, Fred.  Not only that, you and George have been singing at me everytime I’m around about how I’m so in love with Viktor.  Why can’t you just give it a rest?”

 

“I thought you weren’t on speaking terms with Ron still, so I thought you might get a chuckle out of that.”

 

“Even if I weren’t, I still would be mad.  He’s my friend, and you can’t just go hexing people in the middle of the hallway for no good reason.  Honestly, Fred, you’re such a child.”

 

“Why didn’t you just let me ask you to the ball?”

 

“You’re as thick as your brother!” Hermione yelped, moving to gather her things, but Fred stopped her with a closed hand over her wrist.

 

“Do _not_ compare me to Ronald and his thickness.  He’s about as bright as a monkey.”

 

“Monkeys are almost smarter than us!” Hermione shrieked; honestly, were they really fighting over this.  “Look, _Fred_ ,” she snapped angrily, “I don’t know what your problem is, but—”

 

“My problem is that I want to go to the Yule Ball with my girlfriend, but she’s too fucking afraid to admit to the world that she’s dating me!  I don’t care what Ron thinks, Hermione!  He’s a goddamn git, and his opinion shouldn’t mean anything!”  Hermione stared at him, eyes wide.  He seemed to have forgotten they were in a crowded common room, but that didn’t appear evident as he stood and started to storm away.

 

“Fred, really,” Hermione began, standing, but he turned on her again.

 

“No,” he said, dangerously quiet as he stopped in front of her again, “No.  If you want to go to the ball with Viktor, then go.  Date him for all I care.  Because, as far as I’m concerned, you don’t have a boyfriend.”

 

And Fred walked off up the boys’ staircase, leaving Hermione to fume a second before sprinting after him.  “Fred Weasley!” she shouted, banging right through his door, “You can’t _break up with me_!”

 

Lee choked as George spilt the water he was carrying everywhere.  Fred spun around to face her, livid.  “I _can_ break up with you, actually!  I mean, are we even really dating?  No one knows except my brother and _Luna Lovegood_!  I don’t even know her!”

 

“Luna is my friend!”

 

“But don’t tell Harry, someone we all trust!”

 

“Harry is Ron’s best friend!  That’s not exactly trustworthy, now is it?  What does it even matter?  Fine, tell the world we’re dating!”

 

“ _WE’RE NOT_!” Fred roared, storming right up into her face, “Or are you too dumb to understand that?  Ron wants you, so fine, he can have you!  Because I don’t want you!  You’re selfish, Hermione!  All you can think about is yourself!”

 

“And you’re not?  All that matters is whether you’re happy or not!  How do you think I’ve felt these past months, pretending I’m not absolutely giddy on the inside?”

 

“I don’t even know what I was thinking.  You’re _Hermione Granger_ , better-than-everyone know-it-all.”  That did it.

 

Hermione swallowed, staring at him in shock.  Fred didn’t even seem to register what he’d done until she blinked furiously, trying to push away her tears.  “I’m sorry I ever cared about you,” she whispered before hurrying out of the room, shaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Everything recognizable belongs to J.K. Rowling.


	8. Atmospheric Tendencies

Fred watched the door close, his heart thudding in his chest.  His vision cleared; he wasn’t seeing red anymore.  Even though it had only happened seconds ago, he couldn’t remember anything.  He felt like he couldn’t breathe, and he blinked, frowning.  Something was wrong.

 

When he opened his eyes again, he was staring at the blurry faces of his brother and Lee Jordan, and the ceiling was above them.  He tried to move, but his world swam, and he groaned, dropping his head back down again.  “You blacked out,” George informed.

 

“It was wild, really,” Lee went on, “You just kind of collapsed like a rag doll.  It was like you lost all the muscles and bones in your body.  You just fell over.”

 

“Like that time Lockheart removed all of Harry’s bones in his arm,” George laughed.

 

“That was disgusting,” Lee said.

 

“Wonderful, guys.  Did I really just break up with Hermione?”

 

“Well, considering I didn’t even know you were dating, I’d say that was the shortest relationship I’ve ever seen.”

 

“They’ve been dating for, like, two months officially, though they’ve been unofficially flirting for, like ever,” George commented before heaving his brother up with the help of Lee.  “So,” his twin continued, “What was that about?”

 

“A lot of things,” Fred sighed, settling on his bed and rubbing his face with the heels of his palms, “Ron, Krum, being secret, not being able to go to the ball together, me breaking the rules all the time and her always yelling at me about it, her shoving her good grades and perfection right under my nose, and I don’t even know.  I want to punch Ron in the balls.”

 

“I figured it was mostly about him.”

 

“The rest is just her being young, y’know?”  Fred opened his eyes to find his brother and Lee nodding, “It’s just Ron.  It’s just fucking Ron.  He always ruins everything.  Remember last year when we started helping Harry out, remember how furious he was?”

 

“He’s just a jealous prick,” George reminded.  He sat next to his twin, and Lee nodded before going back over to his bed.  “Fred, talk to me.”

 

“I just want to be able to hold her hand in the halls and kiss her before class and hug her whenever I want without thinking that Ron is going to storm over and attack us.  He’s _so in love with her_ , George,” he sighed, “I’ve never seen him act like how he does with Hermione.  It’s ridiculous, and I just.  I don’t want to hurt Ron, and I don’t want to hurt Hermione, and I feel like I’m going to do both, and terribly, if we continue this.”

 

“You’ve already hurt Hermione, and I reckon pretty badly,” George said quietly, and his twin just looked away before pushing his back against the headboard, pulling his knees to his chest, and laying his head on his knees.

 

“I really screwed up, Georgie,” he whispered, “I don’t know what it is, but I just like her so much, and I’m so afraid of ruining everything, our friendship, her friendship with Ron, everything.  I don’t want to make her miserable just so she can be happy with me.”

 

George frowned and patted his leg.  He didn’t know how to tread on this subject.  Hermione was an anomaly.

 

\--

 

Hermione stopped by the Ravenclaw Tower entrance, sniffling.  Thankfully, someone came out of it before long, and she stopped them.  “Excuse me, but do you know if Luna is in there?”

 

“She is; want me to get her?” the girl asked, noting Hermione’s bloodshot eyes.

 

“Yes, thank you.”  The girl returned after a few moments with Luna behind her.

  
“Hermione?  Is everything okay?”  When Hermione shook her head, Luna just frowned and pulled her friend into a tight hug.  “Whatever he said, he’s stupid.”  Hermione wished she could believe her.

 

\--

 

_December eighteenth._

_1994._

Harry couldn’t believe they were still having Quidditch, what with the tournament, but he also felt glad for the distraction.  He was just settling for breakfast when he noticed two empty seats amongst his team.  “Where are the twins?” he asked aloud, frowning.

 

“Haven’t seen them since yesterday,” Angelina said with a shrug.  They sat and talked for at least ten minutes before they showed up, Fred actually looking cheerful.  Ever since Wednesday, he’d been rather depressive to be around, which was unusual for one of the twins.  George, too, had been brought down by his mood, and so it was good to see both of them smiling again.

 

“Malfoy is going to be furious today,” Fred laughed as they sat and heaped eggs, bacon, and hash browns onto their plates.

 

“Bewitching snowballs again?” Katie joked, smirking, though the team burst out into loud peals of laughter when George sniggered.  It certainly seemed like it was going to be an interesting game.

 

They spent the rest of breakfast in high spirits until they decided it was time to leave, and Hermione, Luna, and Ginny were just walking in as they exited.  Fred purposefully crossed paths with Hermione, bending down to ghost a kiss over her cheek the same time he pressed something into her hand.  She kept walking, though she felt shaken when she finally sat and opened her fingers below the table.  A little white petal stared up at her, soft and delicate, and then something hit her on the nose.  She looked up, and let out a shriek.  A dozen or so petals hit her in the face as the owl dropped them, and Luna let out a gasp, pointing to the ceiling where more owls were swooping in even though it was Sunday.  They flew straight for Hermione, where they dropped more white petals, and, Hermione noticed, something yellow sat in the middle of them.

 

“Daisies,” Ginny said aloud, touching one of them until another fell on her finger.

 

“They’re my favorite,” Hermione whispered, though she was distracted as Luna suddenly stood on her bench.

 

“I’m sorry,” she read, “That’s what they say.  I’m sorry.”

 

Hermione, despite being _Hermione_ , stood, as well, and gasped.  There was no mistaking the lines of the letters that the owls had formed with the daisies.  Fred was sorry.

 

\--

 

Luna happened to be commentating that match, which turned out to be quite hilarious.  Surprisingly, she knew quite a bit about Quidditch, though her wacky phrases and enthusiasm made it that much funnier.  Hermione thought it a spectacular game, one of the best she’d seen in a while between Gryffindor and Slytherin.  Gryffindor was _annihilating_ Slytherin, which those in the stands were entirely thrilled with, and the atmosphere was just wild and exuberant.

 

Hermione would later attribute that factor to the reasoning behind her actions.

 

She jumped to her feet as Angelina scored, screaming and throwing her arms in the air.  Ginny joined her as Angelina and Katie slapped hands as they passed each other.  The match continued on this way, the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws completely out-roaring the Slytherins.  It was almost as if their fans didn’t exist past a whisper.  Even the teachers seemed to lean toward Gryffindor.

 

And then Harry gave a shout and was diving.  The entire stadium was on its feet, waiting with bated breath, and then he curved out, came back in, and knocked Malfoy so hard that he rolled over three times and fell to the ground with a heavy thud.  Two seconds later, the snowballs that had been following him around the entire match came crashing down on him just as Harry rammed into one of their beaters, who’d been trying to block him, and snatched the Snitch out of the air right over George’s head.  Slytherin was in an uproar as everyone else poured out of the stadium.  Hermione sprinted through the crowd, screaming along with them.  Adrenaline pumped through her veins, the excitement still fresh from the match, and she could clearly see Fred lifting Harry onto his shoulder with George and whooping.  They put him down as he laughed and Ron thumped him on the back, grabbing his forearms and letting out a manly holler.  And then Fred turned and caught Hermione’s eye.

 

She stopped just before him, eyes glistening and heart pounding from the match and _Fred_.  Fred was right in front of her, and she just couldn’t stand it.  She leaned up on her tiptoes, grabbed his face, and smashed their mouths together, kissing him without care or worry.  He gravitated to her like a magnet, molding their bodies together as he deepened their kiss and held her forearms, desperate to be closer, to feel her so truly.  No one seemed to notice a single thing, even when Hermione released his face and buried her own face in his chest and just _smiled_ , smiled so wide she thought her face might split in half.  They may have much talking to do, but she wanted this more than anything.

 

\--

 

_December twentieth._

_1994._

What with the excitement and the party that followed the match, the next day of classes, and the preparation for the Yule Ball later that night, Fred and Hermione hadn’t had a single second to spare for the two of them.  Both were bogged down with homework, and so they spent all of their free moments Monday writing and pouring over their books, as did much of the rest of Hogwarts, the students not wanting to spend their holiday time wading through textbooks and essays.

 

And then Tuesday came, and every girl in Hogwarts was busying themselves with getting ready as classes had been cancelled so that the staff could help set up the Great Hall and get everything perfect for the upcoming night.  Hermione was eager for seven o’clock to roll around, though, and, when it finally did, she headed downstairs with Ginny and Luna in tow.  The two girls instantly separated from her, Ginny hurrying off to find Neville and Luna waving wildly to Harry as she approached.  But it was Hermione who captured the attention as she descended the grand staircase in her pink dress.

 

Viktor was there waiting at the foot of the staircase, and Hermione smiled as she took his arm.  Tonight was going to be perfect; she just knew it.  The first dance was beautiful and formal, though she quite enjoyed it.  Afterward, they danced for a few songs before Hermione excused herself to get something to eat.  Viktor tried to lead her off, but she waved him away, telling him to go get drinks.  Her eye was fixed on a certain redhead in handsome dress robes.  As she approached, she almost felt him sense her because he straightened and turned just as she reached his elbow, her fingers gracing over the soft fabric of his shirt.

 

“You look magnificent.  Really, Hermione.  Truly beautiful,” Fred complimented, shocking her by bending down and placing a delicate kiss on her cheek.  “How are you enjoying yourself so far?” he asked as she grabbed two plates and picked out some foods for her and Viktor.

 

“I’m having a really wonderful time, and you?”

 

“Lovely.  Georgie and I danced.”  She giggled, sneaking a glance up at him.  He was looking away from her, snatching up a finger sandwich, but he was smiling, and she knew he was happy.

 

“Fred,” she whispered, touching his hand.  She shivered from the contact, though pleasantly.  “Fred, I’m sorry for the things I said.”

 

“As am I,” he said, just as softly, this time turning to face her.  “Hermione, I want to do this right.  No masks, no secrecy.”

 

“Me too,” she agreed immediately, “I don’t care what anyone says.  I want the world to know how much I like you and want to be with you.”

 

“Can we break it softly, though?  Ron is my brother, and it’s going to be torture over the holidays with him.”

 

“Maybe we should just wait until after break?  I hate saying that, but I don’t know what else to do.  I really just want to kiss you right now so bad.”

 

Fred seemed to take that as an affirmative because he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, just a small, chaste kiss, but it made Hermione bubble with joy.  “Do you want to dance?” he queried, but, at that moment, Viktor swept in, took Hermione’s plates, and led her away without a backward glance.

 

\--

 

Fred watched as Hermione sunk to the stairs, throwing her shoes off.  Her hair was wild, and her eyes were bleary.  She’d just screamed Ron up the stairs, though that was to be expected.  He’d watched as they fought their way outside of the Great Hall, forcing himself to remain by Angelina’s side at the table where they were sipping punch.

 

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered before lifting out of his seat and heading toward the distraught Hermione.  She looked up as he approached, offering him a feeble smile.

 

“Stupid Ronald,” she mumbled, and he laughed.  She took the hand he offered, shooting him a questioning glance.

 

“I asked for a dance earlier, Miss Granger,” he murmured before pulling her close to him and taking her waist.  And they danced, right there by the grand staircase, her head on his shoulder, listening to the steady _thump thump_ of his happy heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Everything recognizable belongs to J.K. Rowling.


	9. Words, Hearts, and Bruises

_December twentyfifth._

_1994._

_YOU ARE MY SUNSHINE, MY ONLY SUNSHINE._

_YOU MAKE ME HAPPY, WHEN SKIES ARE GREY._

_I don’t know the rest of the song, actually._

_Hello, Hermione!  It’s Fred, in case you’d wondered, and I’m superbly caught up in being bored at the moment.  It’s about nine o’clock and freaking Charlie still hasn’t woken up yet.  Did I tell you he and Bill came over last night to stay into Christmas morning?  Mum almost fell over, she was so excited.  Even Percy is supposed to be here.  It’s been a while since we’ve had the entire family together.  I can’t imagine being an only child like you.  I really love having all my brothers (and sister!) around.  It isn’t Christmas without at least half of them, ha._

_George and I have set up some incredible fireworks that are due to go off later tonight.  Ron said that Harry said you wrote him and said you might be coming over tonight?  That would be fantastic.  I miss you already, angel._

_Oh!  Also, speaking of you possibly coming over, Mum is cooking Christmas dinner tonight.  I remember you saying your family liked to do Christmas breakfast, which I think is strange, but whatever.  Anyway, she said if you were coming over to be here by seven thirty cos that’s when dinner is.  Harry’s here, of course.  He wrote the Dursley’s and told them he wasn’t coming home, and they actually sent him a card.  It was a get well card, but nonetheless.  They seemed entirely overwhelmed with joy at the idea of him not being around for the holidays._

_CAN YOU PLEASE COME OVER, MY SUNSHINE?_

_Ron actually spoke to me last night.  I was astonished, really, but he seems to be taking the whole thing a little better than I thought he would.  Then again, him talking to me consisted of him asking for the butter and George throwing it at him so that it smudged all over him, and he ended up throwing a temper tantrum and trying to kill George, BUT STILL._

_I have cool things to show you, and I’m sending this with Ginny’s owl, so you better answer ASAP, little lady!  Or just show up in my bedroom or something, ;D_

_Mkay, I’ll see you soon, hopefully.  Lots of lovey love, FREDERICK_

Hermione laughed.  Her parents had received the letter early this morning before she’d awoken, so they’d put it on the tree for her to find.  After asking them and opening her presents, she headed upstairs to get ready.  She smiled at the memory of his letter, of the things he’d said.  She remembered, very clearly, the day that they’d walked into the Great Hall holding hands, how they’d pretended not to be nervous, how they’d sat right down at the Gryffindor table to many stares, and how Ron had just glared and glared until he’d opened his mouth to explode and Fred had beat him to the punch, “Hermione and I are dating,” which shut Ron up for the remainder of the meal.  It had been December twentythird, the morning before they were due to leave for home.

 

And now here she was, letting her relationship with Fred blossom out in the open.

 

She packed away her spare of clothes in her little beaded purse before tucking a book inside and heading downstairs.  “Mum, dad, I’m leaving!”  They bade her goodbye before she stepped outside and lifted her wand, checking her watch.  Mr. Weasley was coming to pick her up.

 

And, when she arrived at the Burrow, she couldn’t believe what happened.  Ron came striding out of the open doorway, red in the face and looking furious.  “What is _she_ doing here?” he snapped angrily.

 

“She’s your best friend, Ronald,” Arthur replied, clearly confused.

 

“No friend of mine would date my brother.”  His hatred burned clear in his eyes, and Hermione just stared at him, glassy-eyed and sad.

 

“Ron,” she tried, but he opened his mouth before she could say another word.

 

“I don’t want to hear whatever bullshit you’re going to spit!  He is _wrong_ for you, Hermione!”

 

“And you’re so much better?”

 

“ _Fred_ , Hermione!” he shouted, shaking his head before storming away.

 

“What _about_ Fred, Ronald?” she shouted right back, stomping after him and grabbing his arm, but, next thing she knew, Ron’s hand had flown back and connected with her cheek.  She staggered back a step as he wrenched his arm out of her grip and then seemed to realize what he’d done.  “He’s a better man than you’ll ever be,” Hermione spat after a moment before pushing past Ron and into the house.

 

\--

 

That night found Hermione spending some girl time with Ginny.  “You’re just too nervous,” Hermione said, fingers twisting in Ginny’s hair, “You need to relax and be more yourself.  That way, he’ll notice you without thinking you’re crazy, and you’ll probably become friends.”

 

Ginny sighed, frowning, but she knew Hermione was right.  “I guess I should be getting all the love advice from you,” she teased, prodding Hermione’s foot since it was the closest thing to her without her having to move and mess up her braid.  “I still can’t even believe you’re dating _Fred_ , of all people.”

 

“Why does everyone keep saying that?  What’s the big deal?”

 

“The big deal is—ow—Fred is a troublemaker, and you’re, well, _Hermione_.  The only time you’d break a rule was if it helped Harry.  _Ow_.”

 

“Stop saying stupid things, then.  I like Fred.”

 

“Do you even know Fred?”

 

This caught Hermione by surprise.  Of course she knew Fred.  Didn’t she?

 

\--

 

_December twentyseventh._

_1994._

Fred cocked his head to the side as Ginny spat out whatever George had given her before scribbling a few things down on a piece of paper.  “So, how’re things going with Harry?” George asked teasingly.  Ginny stuck her tongue out.

 

“I really hope he doesn’t die in the tournament,” Fred continued, catching on.

 

“That’d be really awful for you,” his brother added, mocking concern.

 

“You’d never get to tell the Boy Who Lived how much you loved him.”

 

“Pity, really, isn’t it George?”

 

“Just downright heartbreaking.”

 

“Oh, shove it, both of you,” Ginny grumbled before stomping out of their room.  No sooner had she stepped into the hallway, though, and reached behind her to close their door did the screaming start.

 

“Really, Ron, grow up!” Hermione shouted shrilly, and the twins showed up in their doorway, curious.  “It’s like you don’t even have a brain!  I was just _talking to Harry_!  What is so wrong with that?”

 

“You were bloody conspiring against me!”

 

“He really is going off his rocker,” George commented, folding his arms against his chest.  There was the sound of a slap, and then Ron was furious, his voice echoing around the house.

 

“DON’T YOU HIT ME, YOU DIRTY SLUT!”  Ginny and George both swiveled to look at Fred, but he was already pushing past them and hurrying out.

 

“RON!” came Harry’s voice, and then Hermione was making tiny, struggling noises.  “Ron, stop!”  Ginny took off with George behind her, and they erupted into the kitchen just after Fred, who had tackled Ron to the floor and was blindly throwing his fists into his brother.

 

“HOW DARE YOU PUT YOUR HANDS ON HER!” he was roaring.  Hermione had been thrown into the corner of the kitchen and was sunk against the counters, looking horrified.  Harry had thrown his hands up in defeat and was back at the table, eating his sandwich.

 

George dove onto his twin, yanking him back as Ginny pulled out her wand and leveled it at Ron, who was doing the same, though directed at Fred.  “Harry!” she exclaimed, but he just shrugged.

 

“I’d say just put them outside, no wands, just—”

 

A jet of white light burst from the end of Ron’s wand suddenly, and those gathered let out a shriek and covered their heads, save for Harry, who flung himself out of his chair and at Ron.  Fred howled in pain and clutched his shoulder where the hex had landed.  Hermione scrambled to her feet and toward him as Harry threw Ron’s wand far from his reach and shoved him into the ground.

 

“WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?  STOP IT!” he screamed, grabbing his friend’s shoulders and shaking him roughly once.

 

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR?” Fred roared, still holding his shoulder gingerly, even as George and Hermione tried to peer at the damage.

 

“A Stinging Hex,” Hermione said softly as they forced Fred’s hands down by his side.

 

“YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT IT WAS FOR!” Ron screamed back, and Fred started to move forward until George pinched his shoulder, and he grunted, glaring at his twin.  “YOU ARE _NO GOOD_ FOR HER!”

 

“I can take care of myself!” Hermione exclaimed hotly, turning on her friend, “I don’t see why you even care!  It’s not like I’ve ever meant much to you!  You couldn’t even pluck up the courage to ask me to the ball!”

 

“So it’s still about the bloody ball, is it?” Ron shrieked.

 

“I went with Viktor, _remember_?”  Hermione wasn’t even sure where this argument was going.

 

“And you danced with _him_!” he shouted, pointing at Fred.  “You think no one talks, you think no one saw that?” he accused, “Half the school knew something was going on before you even decided to flaunt it!  I’m just trying to look out for you, ‘Mione!”

 

“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” she suddenly exploded, “I DON’T LIKE WHEN YOU CALL ME THAT!”

 

“WHY, IS IT SPECIAL TO FRED ONLY?”

 

“YES!  GOD _DAMN_ IT, RON!  I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU’RE FEELING!  I’M PERFECTLY HAPPY, AND YOU NEED TO LEARN TO ACCEPT THAT!”

 

“Hermione,” Ginny tried, but it seemed the brunette had had enough.

 

“No.  No, I’m done with this family.  I’m going home,” she snapped before turning on her heel and stalking out just as Molly came hurrying in.  Their mother’s voice rang around the house as Hermione slammed Ginny’s door behind her.  She sunk to her knees, tears staining her face.  Ginny was right.  She _didn’t_ know Fred.  He may have come to her rescue when he heard Ron call her that name, but it was a rare sight.  He didn’t seem to care about their fights as of late.  All he wanted to do was kiss her and tell her to forget about her friendship with Ron.  But she wasn’t ready to give that up, not after all these years.

 

\--

 

Fred sighed and lowered his face into his hands.  “What have I done?” he asked aloud, but the only response he got was a reciprocated sigh from his twin and sister.

 

“Unknowingly asked her to choose between you and her best friend,” someone said from the doorway, and the three of them looked up to find Harry standing there.  “Ron is being fixed up by your mum,” he continued with an offhand shrug and a frown, “May I?”  George nodded, and so he entered, closing the door behind him.  “Hermione is very stubborn,” he began, “And even if you didn’t say it out loud, you were asking it of her.  She’s known Ron her whole witch life, and me, and she’ll be very hard-pressed to let him go so easily.  Or you,” he added to Fred, “But you asked something she couldn’t give, and that’s only going to make it easier for her to mend her friendship with Ron.”

 

Fred stared at Harry for a long minute before nodding and standing.  “I have to fix this,” he said to the room, and George only groaned and got to his feet, following his twin out of the room.  Ginny tried to control her blush as Harry turned his gaze on her, offering a small smile.

 

“Once Ron’s all better, wanna go play some makeshift Quidditch?” he asked, and she couldn’t help but beam and nod.

 

\--

 

“Hermione, dear, there’s someone here to see you!” Jean called up the stairs, and Hermione sighed before plucking herself up off her bed and heading out of her room.  When she came to the foot of the stairs, she’d expected Harry, but seeing Fred there with George lingering just outside made her insides twist.

 

“We should talk,” Fred said, sounding nervous, but Hermione shocked him by shaking her head.

 

“There’s nothing to talk about.  You shouldn’t have come,” Hermione responded, blinking away hot tears, “I can’t even believe you would have asked that of me.”

  
“But I didn’t even ask anything!” he complained loudly, stepping forward.  Hermione just stepped back up a step.

 

“Would you rather fix things with Ron or just continue on as we were?”

  
“Hermione, he’s such a git and—”

 

“He’s one of my best friends, whether or not you want to admit it.  I _know_ he’s a git, but I want him in my life.  I’m sorry, Fred.  But I can’t let go of that just so we can snog sometimes.”

 

“So you’re breaking up with me.  Didn’t we just go through this?”

  
“Yes, and over the very same reasons,” Hermione snapped, “Maybe getting back together was a bad idea.  Maybe we should have just stayed apart.  It would have saved a lot of hearts and bruises.”

 

“Look who’s suddenly so poetic,” Fred spat, “Whatever.”  And, with that, he stalked out, anger fueling him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Everything recognizable belongs to J.K. Rowling.


	10. Underwater

_February first._

_1995._

Hermione sat back triumphantly, her quill coming back with her.  “Don’t tell me you’ve already finished!” Ron groaned, gaping at her in disbelief.

 

“It wasn’t that hard, honestly,” she said, shooting him a look.

  
“It is,” he bemoaned, “Can I look at yours, please?  Pretty please?”  He smiled cheekily, and Hermione just sighed before scooting closer to him.

 

“Let me see what you’ve got done so far.”  Ron took the bait and pushed his parchment over to her, and they spent the next hour going over the topic and what else he could write about while Harry smiled and continued to work on his Astronomy chart.

 

Things had been pleasantly good between the three of them, and, though they all hated to admit it, they knew it was because Hermione was back and not gallivanting off with Fred Weasley.  Regardless, the two boys still noted how she had a little less brightness in her eyes.  They figured, with time, even that would pass.

 

When it was finally late enough that they could, with good conscience, stretch away from their homework, the trio packed up their things, though they left them on their table as they grabbed the good couch in front of the fire.  “We should be in the library,” Hermione said thoughtfully a while later, “The second task is only in a week.”

 

“I’m sure Harry’s got it figured out,” Ron said with a shrug.

 

Harry looked away.

 

Both Hermione and Ron looked over at him, appalled.  “Harry!” Hermione exclaimed, “A _week_!  And you haven’t figured out what to do yet?”

 

“Oh no,” Ron suddenly groaned, tumbling off the couch and landing on his face with a thud, “We’re going to have to spend this whole week in the library now, aren’t we?”

 

“It’s actually a very soothing place, Ronald,” Hermione said playfully, pushing him with her foot, “Not that you’d ever know, though.”  He just groaned again, and the three continued on with their conversation as the fiery embers died away and the night carried on.

 

\--

 

_February seventh._

_1995._

“Mister Weasley!”

 

Fred and George stopped short, shoulders sinking.  They turned to find McGonagall approaching them, though she didn’t seem to be upset or ready to scold them, so they arranged innocent expressions.  “I’m glad I ran into you,” she said, stopping in front of them, “I’d kindly ask you to find your brother Ronald and Miss Granger for me.  I need them in my office _without_ Potter.  Thank you.”

 

She walked away without another word, and George huffed a sigh before heading back down the hall.  “I think I heard Ginny say they were in the library earlier.  Something about Harry being stupid and not knowing what he was going to do for tomorrow or something.  Rather idiotic, if you ask me.  Okay, what, are you going to sulk the whole way there?  I’ll talk to them.  You can just wait outside.  Seriously, Fred?”

 

“I just don’t know what to do, Georgie,” he sighed, “I feel like we can’t even be friends anymore.  She’s so freaking stubborn.”

  
“You knew this.”

 

“And I thought we could still be friends, like we used to, but she won’t even look at me.”

 

“She is a girl, after all.”

 

“And now I’m pretty sure Ron is going to hex me the second he sees me.”

 

“That’s entirely untrue.  Ron might be stupid, but—actually, I’m just going to stop talking because I’m probably wrong.”  They continued on like this until they reached the library, and Fred went in after his brother, bracing himself.  “Just act normal,” George whispered as they approached the trio.  “Hey guys,” he greeted when they stopped at the end of a shelf, “Doing some last minute studying before tomorrow, Harry?”

 

“Some might say that’s bad luck.”

  
“I don’t know, Fred.  I’ve heard it actually works if you do that.”

  
“Really?”

  
“Guys,” Harry snapped, “What do you want?”

 

“We need to steal Hermione and Ron,” George said with a shrug.

 

“McGonagall has called upon you.”

 

“Better not to deny her, really.”

 

“Remember that time we did, George?”

 

“Wretched consequences, honestly.”

 

“Alright, alright, we’re coming,” Ron said with a groan, getting to his feet and waiting for Hermione to follow.

 

Harry watched them go worriedly, but it was George who assuaged his worries, “Don’t worry, Ginny taught me the fine art of Bat Bogie Hexes.”

 

It turned out to be a harmless journey, but Fred immediately regretted ever following McGonagall’s instructions when the twins pressed their ears to her door and eavesdropped.  His expression of horror deepened as she went on to explain the details of the next task to the point where George dragged him away, and they set about exploding things.

 

The next morning, Fred distracted himself with placing bets and the such with his brother.  When the time for the task finally came, they found a seat next to Ginny, and it was then that it finally hit Fred.  Hermione was at the bottom of the Black Lake, and he felt sick to his stomach.

 

Ginny noticed, and she took Fred’s hand, smiling up at him.  “Things are going to be okay, Freddie.”  He just smiled back and squeezed her hand.

 

“Thanks, Gin.”

 

“Harry calls me that.”

 

“Oh yea?  Since when?”

 

“Since my first year,” she replied happily, looking back down the stands toward where the champions where lining up, “When Tom took me into the Chamber.”  Fred frowned at the memory.  He still found it hard to believe that his little sister had been possessed by Voldemort at _eleven_ , no less.

 

“Do you still have nightmares about that?” he asked delicately.

 

“Not anymore.  They stopped last year.”

 

“Good.  Oh, there they go.”  Harry was the last of the champions to dive into the lake, though he fell kind of thrashing and strangely.  They sat together, the three Weasley/s, chatting and talking until Cedric suddenly emerged with Cho gasping at his side.  Fred straightened, his back rigid, waiting and waiting, until, finally, there was Krum and Hermione, sopping wet, but there she was.

 

“Fred?  Fred!” Ginny exclaimed, but her brother didn’t seem to hear her.  George jumped to his feet as Fred sprinted down the stands and around the stairs at the back.  His mind was swimming with relief, and he felt light and like he was floating.

 

When he finally erupted at the bottom of the stairs, Hermione was just going to the other edge of the stand as she pulled her robe tighter around her.  “Hermione,” he breathed out, and he was surprised when she didn’t turn at his voice.

 

“I was wondering if you’d come down,” she said, a shiver shaking through her.  Fred immediately pulled off his jacket and dropped it over Hermione’s shoulders before coming around to see her face.  She shocked him even further when he found tears falling unchecked down her face.

 

“’Mione,” he whispered, stepping in front of her and placing one hand on her arm while the other thumbed away the tears, “What’s wrong?”

 

“When McGonagall told us what was going on, all I could think of was that I wished it were you coming to get me and not Viktor.  I miss you, Fred.”

 

His shoulders sagged as he looked down at her, and, finally, she turned her gaze up to him, unblinking and strong.  “I’m sorry, Hermione,” he murmured, threading his fingers in her hair as he cupped her jaw, “I really am.  But I just—I don’t think—”

 

“Me either,” she cut him off, reaching up a hand to grasp his wrist, “I had fun.”

 

“So did I.”

 

“Can I have one last kiss?”  And Fred bent down and pressed his lips to hers in a soft, chaste kiss that left both of them smiling.  “Don’t be a stranger,” she said, and he just laughed before kissing her forehead and stepping back.  He didn’t feel so lost anymore.

 

\--

 

_May thirtieth._

_1995._

Fred pushed his brother playfully as they entered the castle again, windswept from flying outside.  They headed into the Great Hall with Harry and the rest of the Gryffindor team trailing after them, coming in pairs and small groups.  Eventually, they all found their way to the table and were seated amongst their different friends, eating and laughing.  Fred and George sat down on either side of Ginny, to which she immediately groaned.  “What did I ever do to deserve you two as brothers?”

 

George feigned hurt as Fred sniggered behind her back.  “Why, dear sister—” George began.

 

“—whatever do you mean?” Fred finished.

 

“We just wanted to say hello—”

 

“—and to ask you how you’ve been.  Honestly—”

 

“—it’s nothing new.”

 

“Do you see what they do to me?” she whined, covering her face.

 

Harry actually laughed, arching an eyebrow at the twins, but this only caused them to erupt in even faster and more confusing chatter.  Away they went, causing those in earshot to burst into hilarious bouts of laughter.  Eventually, the noise died down as the twins faded away into their own conversations, George with Angelina and Fred with Hermione.

 

“Are you okay?  You seem kind of quiet tonight,” he asked, watching her face.

 

She shrugged, making sure not to frown, “Yea, I’m alright.  I’ve just been having a rough week.”

 

“Wanna go for a walk after dinner and you can rant to me?  I don’t mind.”

 

“I’d actually really like that.”

 

And so, as Harry, Ron, and Ginny were standing with the twins and Hermione, Fred led her off with promises to return her before curfew.  “They’re probably just going for a walk around the lake,” Harry said as they headed off, “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, okay?”  Ron rolled his eyes, but Harry stopped, giving him a pointed look.  “Seriously, Ron, you know they’re just friends.  You _know_ what you did to them.”

 

“I didn’t do _anything_ to them!” Ron exclaimed as Fred and Hermione disappeared from the Great Hall.

 

“Don’t be so thick, Ron!” Ginny scoffed, turning away and storming off.  George just shrugged before following his sister, and Harry just sighed.

 

“Look, Ron, we can talk about this in the common room.  I’d prefer if we didn’t have a screaming match in the Great Hall, especially with two of your siblings behind me.”

 

“Oh, so you’re just going to assume that Ginny and George are going to back you on this?”

 

“Yes, Ron!  Do you even know what Hermione has gone through because of you?”

 

“She hasn’t gone through anything!”

 

“Maybe if you paid attention—” Ginny screamed as she came storming back in, “You’d know just how much Fred meant to her!  She was perfectly happy until you came along and ruined _everything_!”  Ginny’s hand suddenly swung back, and everyone stared as it contacted with Ron’s face.  Even he looked stunned when she pulled back, panting and as red as her hair.  “It’s _all_ your fault!” Ginny shouted, shaking, “She was _so_ happy with Fred, and you just destroyed everything because you’re jealous and because you can’t admit that you like Hermione when your brother _can_!  Why can’t you just leave them alone?”  As Ginny’s tirade died away, not a soul moved, let alone breathe.  They just watched her, waiting.

 

Finally, Ron spoke, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.  I saved Hermione from a disaster.  She doesn’t belong with Fred.  He’s so _wrong_ for her.”  Before Ginny could even open her mouth again, George had grabbed her around the waist and carried her off screaming and kicking.

 

“Honestly, Ron,” Harry said, looking disgusted, “She’s your best friend.  You could give her feelings a thought rather than only caring about yourself.”

 

“You’re going to turn on me now, too?  I thought you, of all people, would understand.”

 

“How?” Harry exclaimed, exasperated, “Even I knew how good they were together!  But no, _days_ after they told us, you wrecked them!”  Ron just stared at him in disbelief as his best friend stomped away after _his_ brother and sister, furious and fuming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Everything recognizable belongs to J.K. Rowling.
> 
> I’m pretty sure the next chapter is going to be the end of fourth year. I am seriously way more annoyed than I thought I would be (GOF is my least favorite, I’m sorry!), and I really, really wanna get into OOTP. I have so many fun ideas.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Everything recognizable belongs to J.K. Rowling.
> 
> The format of this story is a little different. The first and second chapter will be dealing with Hermione’s second and third year, just little missing moments scenes and such. The third chapter will get into the actual story, and I’ll be deal primarily with her fourth and fifth year. Her sixth and seventh year will be much the same as these first two chapters, and then we’ll move back into the regular flow of things. Sound good? Leave your thoughts!


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